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midnightstar-90 · 7 months

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In Charge

Cooper Family x Fem!Reader | Georgie Copper x Fem!Reader Taglist | Requests | Wattpad Main Masterlist | Other Actors and Characters Masterlist Requested Anonymously: “hi honey! i have no idea if your still taking requests but if you are, could you do a georgie cooper x fem!reader (where they are already dating), and that missy some how convinces everyone to pretend to be a family (like georgie’s the dad, y/n is the mum, sheldon and missy are the kids) and at the end when y/n stays over georgie tells them how great of a mum she would be and how he wants to start a family with her? just pure fluff? love your work so so much <333” Summary: The reader’s in charge and all she wants is Peace, which leads to an interesting conversation between her and Georgie. Warnings: None, really. I mean, there's fluff, but other than that... nothing really A/N: My ADHD is allowing me to write today, so that is what I shall do. This will be based before Georgie drops out of school and has a kid. And because it was an anonymous request, I couldn’t ask, but instead of playing house, I made it as the reader babysitting. That’s kind of like playing house right? I just didn’t know how to make it about them playing house without it basically being Y/N and Georgie babysitting. If you requested this and didn’t like it, I will rewrite it as them all playing house, just privately DM me, if you’d like to remain anonymous. Words: 2.4K

“Alright, everyone, I’m headed to the store,” Mary said as she exited her room. She made her way through the living room seeing Y/N and Georgie cuddled up on the couch, flipping through channels with no one else in sight.

Mary turned to Georgie and asked, “Where’s your father?”

Georgie’s eyes stayed glued to the TV screen as he gave his mother a shrug of the shoulders. Y/N saw this and slapped Georgie’s shoulder with a hard glare. “Georgie, it’s disrespectful to ignore your mother,” the teenage girl said sternly.

“Ow!” Georgie exclaimed, looking away from the TV to observe his arm for a bruise. When he realized he was okay, he looked up, looking between his girlfriend and his mother. “I didn’t ignore her. I said that I didn’t know.”

Y/N glared and rolled her eyes at the boy before looking over at her boyfriend’s mother. “I don’t know where he went, but he was grumbling about having a hard day,” She said, answering Mary for Georgie. Mary thanked the girl before continuing into the kitchen with a scoff. She mumbled her husband’s name, annoyed, and called out, “Y/N’s in charge.” Georgie’s eyes instantly went wide in shock as he stared wide-eyed at the kitchen entrance, unable to actually see his mother from his current position. Y/N sat next to him with a smirk as they heard the sound of keys jingling and a door closing.

As soon as the door closed, Sheldon stormed out of his room, looking as if he was about to blow his top. “Mom!” He loudly called out, not receiving an answer.

Georgie paid no mind to the boy, instead bringing him back to the television as if nothing happened. Y/N looked over at the boy with caring eyes and said, “She just left. What’s up, bud.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” Sheldon asked frantically.

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry. Is it something I can help with?”

Sheldon hesitated, not knowing if he trusted Y/N enough to help him. He wasn’t used to going to people outside of his family for help. He huffed, “Missy took my Flash action figure, and she won’t give it back.”

Y/N stood from her spot on the couch. Georgie gave her a quick look and then turned back to the TV. “I’m sure Missy wasn’t trying to intentionally upset you, Sheldon,” The girl reassured him in a soft voice.

Sheldon gave Y/N a blank stare. “Have you met my sister?”

She chuckled and said, “Come on. Let’s see for ourselves.”

She followed Sheldon to his shared room, leaving Georgie alone on the couch. As they entered, the two spotted Missy sitting on her bed playing with a Barbie doll and Sheldon’s Flash action figure.”

“See!” Sheldon exclaimed, pointing directly at his twin.

Y/N let out a small “mhm” as she moved to sit on Missy’s bed, next to her. “Hi, Missy.”

“Hi,” She responded, continuing to play with the doll and action figure. (I know there are people who would ridicule me if I put the action figure in the “dolls” category, so I’ll leave it at that.)

“Whatcha doing?”

“Playing.”

Y/N heard a frustrated groan behind her and quietly sighed.

“Missy?” Y/N spoke a bit more sternly than before.

“Hmm.” Missy looked up at the older girl.

“Did you take Sheldon’s to-”

“Action figure,” Sheldon cut the girl off to correct her.

“Did you take your brother’s Action Figure without asking?” Y/N asked. The younger girl gave the teenager an apologetic frown as she slowly placed the dolls on the bed. Sheldon swooped in behind the girl and snatched his Flash action figure from off of his twin’s bed.

“It’s not very nice to take people’s things without asking. What if Sheldon did it to you?”

“I’d punch him in the face,” Missy Responded.

Y/N scolded Missy, causing her to shy away. “Apologise to your brother.”

“But-”

“I said apologise.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“That doesn’t sound like an apology to me,” Y/N said, still scolding the child in front of her. She heard a snicker behind her and slowly turned to face Sheldon. Sheldon jumped. His smile was replaced with a look of fright. “Something funny?” Y/N asked the boy. She was now scolding him, but it was the frightening position the girl was in that really scared him. Her body was facing his sister, whilst her head faced him. He felt as if he were staring into the eyes of an owl that looked like his brother’s girlfriend.

He quickly shook his head. “No. No problem.”

“I don’t think laughing at someone who is trying to apologize is really respectful. I think you both should apologize to each other,” She ordered. The room went silent for a second before the two suddenly began to speak, simultaneously.

“I’m sorry for taking your stupid doll without asking.”

“I’m sorry for laughing at your terrible excuse for an apology.”

Y/N looked between the two in utter shock. How can they both be this bad at apologizing? She shrugged it off as she stood up from her sitting position. “Well, it wasn’t the best, but we’ll get there. For now, I don’t want to hear any more about this Flash doll-”

“Action figure.”

“Whatever! I don’t want to hear about it anymore, okay? The two nodded and the girl took that as her cue to go. She went back into the living room to see Georgie still watching TV. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.

As she approached her spot on the couch, Georgie looked up, finally noticing her. “Hey, you’re back,” Georgie said with a smile. “I kept your seat warm for you.” He patted the spot where she sat, earlier.

Y/N looked down at the couch cushion in disgust. “Literally or figuratively, because I told you last time that that was gro-”

“Relax. It was figurative. Geez, you do one thing as a joke, and suddenly you’re labeled for life.”

Y/N laughed at her boyfriend's dramatics as she joined him on the couch. Georgie looked over at the girl, admiring everything about her. In his mind, he saw Y/N as the prettiest girl in the universe. No one compared to the girl when it came to looks, smarts, and her nurturing personality.

He wrapped his arm around the girl and pulled her into his chest. “You know, I think you would make an amazing mother one day,” Georgie said, catching Y/N off guard. She lifted her head off of her boyfriend’s chest so that she could look at him.

“Wow! Where did that come from?”

“I’ve seen you with my family, and despite how messed up it is, you manage to wedge yourself into everyone’s heart one way or another. Not to mention the fact that I heard how you handled Sheldon and Missy, just now. That’s something I’ve only seen my mother do and succeed. But in my opinion, you did it best,” Georgie said. Y/N’s heart was racing as watched and listened to Georgie speak about her. Tears brimmed her eyes as she gave the boy a loving smile before giving him a quick kiss.

“Awe, Georgie. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’ll be an amazing father.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Y/N chuckled. The two pulled each other in super close for a tight hug. Y/N’s head, once again rested on Georgie’s chest. She closed her eyes as she took in the aroma of her boyfriend’s cologne. Georgie placed a kiss on top of her head, wishing that this moment would never end.

When they pulled out of the hug, Y/N moved slightly away from the boy, so that she could get a better look at him. She wore a mischievous smirk as she asked, “When you thought of me as a mother, what did you envision?”

She chuckled as she watched Georgie think for a second. “I saw you… as my wife. And in your arms, we have a son, who you can never put down because he loves his momma so much that if you try to put him down, he screams. And don’t get me started on the sleeping situation.” Y/N laughed, making Georgie smile. She motioned for Georgie to continue. “Okay, well we also have 4 other kids.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide in astonishment. “5 kids? You think of us having 5 kids?”

“And a dog. Anyways there’s little Joanne, but she goes by “Jo”. She’s a tomboy and a daddy’s girl at the same time. Then there is Tommy. He’s a year older than Jo, and he’s tough. If you mess with his siblings you are in a world of hurt.”

Y/N nodded her head, saying a small “okay,” as she continued to listen. “The oldest two are Fawn and Sam. Their completely different, but the two are always together, which sometimes leads to fighting. That’s where you, the mamma bear come in. You know all your kids, and you know how to easily tame them.”

“I like it,” Y/N chuckled. “Now I don’t know if I can handle 5 kids, but I love your idea of what our family would look like in about 20-30 years.”

“Hold on. You want to wait until we're in our 30’s and 40’s to have kids?”

“Sorta. I mean having all those kids is gonna take time. And how will we support them if we aren’t stable? You can take care of kids all day, but who is gonna provide? Kids are expensive, Georgie. You gotta feed them, clothe them, put them through school, take them to the doctor. You need money for all of those things.”

“And I can do that,” Georgie added. “I’m gonna be the moneymaker. I’ll have a job that pays well, and move us into a nice, big house.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I don’t want to be a housewife. I want to have my own job. And why do you get to be the main source of income?”

“First off, I didn’t say you had to be a housewife. You can have a job, but I want to be the one who gives you everything you want. I want to take care of you and to do that, I work hard, maybe even owning my own company.”

“Businessman. I can somewhat see it.”

“Well, I will be. That’s how we can afford everything because my business is booming,” Georgie assured the girl. Her smile remained on her face, getting wider and wider as they went deeper into their hypothetical future together.

The two continue to talk for a few more minutes as the sound of feet walking across the floor gets closer and closer to them. The sound eventually stops behind Y/N. Georgie looks up and glares at the person who interrupted their moment together. “What now, Sheldon?” Georgie asked with a touch of irritation.

“I’m hungry,” Sheldon spoke. Y/N turned to look at the boy.

Georgie responded to Sheldon, “You’re smart, don’t you know how to make you a sandwich?” Y/N kicked Georgie’s leg, receiving a small “ow” from the older boy.

“Sheldon, your mom went to the store. I’m sure she’ll be back soon and she will start on dinner.”

“But I’m hungry now.”

“Sheldon, if you eat now, then you are gonna spoil your appetite. And you know more than anyone that it takes longer than an hour or two to digest your food, so why don’t you go back in your room, and wait.”

“Okay,” Sheldon sighed as he made his way back to his room.

“See! You just tamed a wild Sheldon, that’s almost impossible.” Y/N rolled her eyes at Georgie’s comment.

“Y/N!” Missy called out walking into the living room. Y/N watched the younger girl walk in with an arm full of dolls. “Y/N, will you play with me? I’m bored, and I have no one to play with.”

“Sure,” Y/N agreed, giving Missy a beaming smile. She moved off the couch. “What? Nooo! Where are you going?” Georgie asked, frowning up at his girlfriend as she moved farther and farther away from him. Missy quickly grabbed Y/N’s hand with her free hand and started pulling her toward her room. Y/N looked back at Georgie and whispered “Sorry,” whilst laughing at Georgie’s expression.

Georgie eventually left the couch and went to his room. He was jealous of the fact that Missy and Sheldon had basically hogged up all their time together. He aggressively flopped on his bed and opened up the magazine he was reading before Y/N came over.

His door was open, in case Y/N got bored of playing dolls with Missy and wanted to join him. So when Mary walked into the house and dropped her keys in the key bowl, Georgie heard it. Y/N must have heard also, because as soon as he heard his mother grunt, probably from bringing in groceries, Y/N rushed out of the room and graciously helped the woman.

Georgie stood from his bed and curiously entered the kitchen. He watched Mary and Y/N laugh as they walked back into the house with the groceries. “I must admit Y/N since Georgie has started seeing you, he’s been different.” Y/N looked up at the woman with a frown. “No! Not in a bad way. He’s kinder and a bit more respectful. And look at this house! Usually, I come home and there is something that needs cleaning up, and today, it’s just as I left it.”

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Cooper. We did have some issues, but it was quickly resolved and the peace was restored.”

“Oh, you don’t have to think of me. You did an excellent job. I hope one day I get to call you my daughter-in-law.”

“Awe. Stop Mrs. Copper. You’re gonna make me cry,” She said, fanning her bright red face. Georgie saw the tears lining her eyes from where he stood.

The front door opened, revealing George walking into the house in his work clothes. He saw Georgie standing in the kitchen watching his mother and girlfriend interact. “What are you doing?” He asked his son as he approached.

“Mom and Y/N are… bonding? I don’t actually know what’s happening,” Georgie said with a shrug of his shoulders.

George chuckled and clapped his hand against his son’s back. “From me to you, good luck. You’re gonna need it.” And with that, George was gone, leaving a confused Georgie alone with his thoughts.

Taglist: @buckysmainhxe , @esposadomd , @natalia12700, @siriusstwelveyears , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @countrymusiclover , @bellarkeselection , @alexxavicry , @xivilivix, @idontknowwhat2type , @ietss

If your User is in orange, I could not find you. Please feel free to contact me if you'd like to be re-added.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #georgie cooper x reader #georgie cooper #young sheldon #sheldon cooper #missy cooper #george cooper #mary cooper #masterlist #request #requested #family #big bang theory fandom #big bang theory

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stellas-and-tonitruses · 4 months

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⚠ SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 93 AHEAD! ⚠

now that we have finally met demetrius, it seems like a great time to dissect his first scene and proper conversation! :]

his wide, unfocused stare hides ✨unexpected complexity✨, as expected of a desmond

he's impatient (common desmond trait at this point)

he's nonchalantly exceptional, as we expected and have been repeatedly told thus far

...but most importantly, amidst a sea of accomplishments, he is burdened with a lack of people skills and visibly frustrated by it, as evidenced by his conversation with damian in this chapter.

the analysis and speculation continues under the cut!!

so, a breakdown of the main meat of his introduction

similarly to every single time there's an interaction between damian and another desmond, damian is the one who reaches out first by calling out to demetrius, who immediately asks him what he wants. damian tries to begin with small talk, congratulating him on his accomplishments of the day

demetrius is brief and to the point, but it doesn't feel to me like he is annoyed here. perhaps curious, perhaps indifferent, we don't know -- demetrius is a boy of few explanatory thoughts, after all

merely in the next page, demetrius is revealed to have a blank mind for most of this conversation.

i don't believe this is a sign that demetrius was experimented on or anything. obviously, this does not rule out that he has been experimented on, but i don't think his lack of thoughts are indicative of that, nor do i believe anya was too far away (in previous chapters, she has read the thoughts of people at greater distances than this with ease!). i think this has something to do with his upbringing, but also very importantly his state of mind at the moment

his eyes are wide open, but his stare is unfocused. i think this is an intentional choice to hammer in that he's not really here at this moment, listening to what is undoubtedly to him pointless praise. he has likely tuned all of it out completely.

(as a side note, if we wanna involve anya in this situation more, we could assume that he is intentionally cloaking his thoughts from anya or any other potential mind-readers, but while i do think donovan is very likely involved in project apple, i severely doubt the financial benefactors of project apple would spend likely a lot of money to figure out a way to shield the thoughts of a middle schooler, regardless of who his dad is, from potential telepaths. as far as we know, anya is the only one with this specific power and demetrius is unlikely to have any information that would incriminate the operation. if that was an issue, i don't see why they wouldn't spend their money to protect melinda's mind, since she likely has way more info than demetrius ever could.)

moving on from that side note though,

we do not see demetrius' face as he says this! this is important to me

we are left unaware to whether or not he is disappointed or just trying to abscond to take a nap (he really needs one)

but then, he says this:

this, to me, is a direct attempt at connecting!! he's trying to reciprocate the small talk, the praise, trying to continue the conversation. his thought, "i don't understand him," may feel contradictory but to me, it only underlines his frustration about this, because he knows what damian is going to say next:

even though it was expected, this is not what demetrius was hoping to get out of this. his downturned eyebrows give a feeling of discontent. he is not blank, he is visibly frustrated, visibly annoyed.

and we are thus made aware of a boundary demetrius and melinda both share:

never mention donovan.

for one reason or another, this is the boundary damian has overstepped with both his mother AND his brother now, without ever being informed that it IS a boundary in the first place

so demetrius, upset, turns around to leave and throws this at damian:

this is important, because damian has shared a very similar sentiment to anya before, albeit in a mournful tone.

demetrius likely feels similarly neglected by his parents, but is long past feeling sad about it. he has moved straight to anger, understandably!

but the bigger reason for his frustration, imo, relates to a problem damian once again ALSO has: people treating them as a gateway to their father and nothing more.

demetrius has more than likely also been treated like this, and probably still is unless his peers have learned not to engage because of his brief, snippy responses, so he is familiar with the feeling of being used.

...and damian unknowingly treated him the exact same way, even though he's also grown to hate it.

of course, he's 6 years old and he meant no harm by this -- he's just a lonely boy trying to be noticed by his neglectful parents, after all, what else could he possibly do?

but for demetrius, this is the end of the conversation. he is not his father's manager, he's not even that close to him, so why does his brother only ever talk to him when it relates to their father?

as he said before: he doesn't understand him, and why he keeps doing this. does he not know there is little info to be gained?

he doesn't understand their father either, with his impossibly high expectations, never pleased, never happy, never available

and lastly, as ewen and emile try to introduce themselves

demetrius has one final thought.

and he casts aside this entire conversation, leaving the scene as empty as he entered it.

of course, the chapter doesn't end here, but this is where demetrius' involvement in it does, leaving us with a newfound understanding that while to damian, demetrius represents everything he can only strive to become... to demetrius? his accomplishments ring hollow in the face of everything he wishes he could understand.

we do get an extra flashback that hearkens back to a better yesterday, but while donovan is lacking some very important details (those scars, that dead disinterest that follows his every move -- he seems mirthful somehow here), we don't know if this scene represents a time when they were closer or if it's simply evidence that as far back as everyone can remember, demetrius has been doing nothing but studying all the time

could this be evidence of something nefarious relating to project apple? eh, not particularly, not to me. the boy's just studying hard, any relation to project apple would have to be more recent in the timeline imo

TL;DR:

demetrius has been built up throughout the past 92 chapters as a figure larger-than-life, and this has been thanks to most of our knowledge of him being directly affected by damian's perception of him, as the younger brother living under his shadow

however, he has now been humanized by his flaws: a short temper and a lack of social skills that comes paired with a clear want to connect, to understand, to converse. he seems to be a very lonely kid, everyone around him either jealous, putting him on a pedestal or actively seeking to use him under the false impression that he has important connections, and although he doesn't mean to, damian has unknowingly been treating demetrius in the same way, only seeking him out when he wants to know something about donovan.

interestingly, him and melinda share the same trigger, that being donovan himself, though we do not yet know if their reason for this is also shared.

CLOSING THOUGHTSSS

it has been so exciting finally meeting this little goober-- i thought i might never see the day 😭😭😭

thank you to whoever read this far, i literally made this blog just now so! HOPE I DID WELL!

💖

#spy x family #sxf #demetrius desmond #damian desmond #donovan desmond #manga spoilers #spy x family manga spoilers #sxf spoilers #ch 93 #chapter 93 #sxf ch 93 #sxf chapter 93 #spy x family ch 93 #spy x family chapter 93 #spy x family 93 #trying to cover all possible spoiler tags for anyone who has them blocked sorry #sxf theory

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hypewinter · 4 months

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Bruce sighed. He was in over his head. Wayyyy over his head. Honestly he only had himself to blame. Really what was he thinking? He'd taken in one child and suddenly thought he was an expert in traumatized youths? He'd been overconfident and rash and now Danny was suffering for it and would probably hate him forever now and-

"I can hear you fidgeting through the door!" Came a voice that broke Bruce out of his spiral. There was a shuffle before the heavy wooden door swung open. A boy with floppy black hair and ice blue eyes stared up at him.

"You could've just knocked ya know?" Danny said.

Bruce fidgeted a little more, embarrassed that he'd been caught. "Bu- I thought you were-"

"Still mad at you?" Danny interrupted. "Yeah, I can tell by your face. You didn't even bother to wipe off your eyeshadow."

It was true. Bruce had rushed through patrol and gotten back home as quickly as possible. He'd barely shed his armor as he practically tripped over himself trying to get up to Danny's room. He had come up with and memorized the perfect apology to smooth things over between the two of them and had been dying to get it out before he messed anything else up. But now all the words he'd rehearsed left him.

"Wait. You're not angry?"

Danny leveled him with a blank stare as he leaned on the door frame. "Oh I'm always angry. Just not at you. At least not right now."

Upon seeing Bruce struggle to form words, Danny continued. "You were right," he said. "I shouldn't have beat up Dylan and his little minions. I knew they were intentionally trying to goad me into hitting them and I did it anyway. I-I'm sorry."

For the first time since their conversation began, Danny looked away. His look of mild annoyance was now replaced with one of shame.

"I just- they were making fun of my family. Saying stuff like 'they were small town trash and no one would miss them'. And that comment just set me off." Tears were now springing to Danny's eyes as anger took over his features.

Danny's hands balled into fists as he continued. "I couldn't just let that go. Especially not when they're the ones that are trash. They're so bothered by a 'commoner' wearing the same uniform as them that they feel the need to persistently bully me even when I have nothing to do with them. We don't share any classes, I eat lunch alone, I'm not in any clubs or extracurriculars and if I had a choice I wouldn't even be going to that damn school to begin with!"

Tears were freely streaming down Danny's cheeks as he stopped to catch his breath. His whole body was shuddering with fury. Bruce carefully put a hand on the boy's shoulder, ready to back off if Danny pulled away but he leaned in instead. Given the go ahead, Bruce carefully pulled Danny into a hug, slowly patting his back.

It took a while before either of them spoke. "I know what they said was out of line," Bruce started. "And trust me, they'll definitely receive punishment. But-"

"I know, I know," Danny murmured, turning his face to the side while still clutching onto Bruce's shirt. "Sending 5 boys to the hospital with my training is still bad."

After staying like that for a while, Danny finally looked up at Bruce. "Am I gonna be expelled?" he asked.

Bruce gave a soft smile. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. I promise."

Danny finally pulled away, rubbing at his face with his sleeve and returned Bruce's smile with a toothy one of his own. "You're gonna bribe them or something aren't you? There's gonna be a conveniently placed donation or something. You're just like those rich pricks," he teased.

"Heyyyy! How come Danny gets to cuss?" came a small voice from beyond the shadows of Danny's room. Soon enough, Dick made himself seen, Zitka cradled in his arms as he sleepily stolled forth.

"He's not," Bruce answered quickly. They had just convinced Dick to use more "colorful" insults as opposed to outright cursing and Bruce for one was not willing to face Alfred's wrath if he reverted back. A side glance at Danny told him the exact same thought was running through the boy's mind too. Leave it to Alfred to put the fear of God into two vigilantes who beat up criminals every night.

Dick yawned as he reached out for Bruce. "Then why'd he just say-"

"Don't tell Alfred and you'll have my dessert for a week," Danny interrupted in a panic.

Dick grinned. "Deal," he said as Bruce picked him up. The little boy blinked his eyes a few times before falling back asleep in Bruce's embrace.

Danny halfheartedly glared at the sleeping child. "I swear that kid is gonna grow up to be a politician the way he manipulates like that."

All Bruce could do was sigh. After all Danny was probably onto something. Dick knew very well the influence he had on others and never shied away from using it. It was very likely that he would be holding this particular little incident over their heads for at least the next two weeks.

Bruce looked at Danny, a thought suddenly dawning on him. "Why was Dick sleeping in your room? Did he have a nightmare again?" he asked, shifting the conversation.

Danny shook his head. "Nah. He just insisted that we both make up. He wouldn't leave until I agreed. That kid really doesn't know the meaning of 'no'."

Bruce felt his heart melt as he looked down at the boy in his arms. Why was Dick such a sweet child?

Danny grinned as he started heading downstairs. "Don't get all sappy yet. He was also walking me through his plan of how he got back at Dylan and his gang for my suspension."

The smile dropped from Bruce's face. "Wh... what do you mean revenge? Danny? Danny!?"

I told y'all I'd do it myself if I had to.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #winter's tales

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bedoballoons · 5 months

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─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎄𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎄

Wanderer X Reader

{༻~Day 8: Tied up in the ribbon~༺}

CW: NSFW! MDNI!! Gn! Bottom afab reader! Bondage, degradation, asphyxiation play, fingering, cum denial and mentions of touching through clothing! Names used on the reader: Slut, pet

Christmas masterlist

𑁍༄Wanderer:

"Awe look at my little whore, all tied up in ribbons, unable to move as I play with their pussy like they are nothing but a pet for me to fuck with~" Wanderer spit out his words, his eyes fired up as he watched your features twist lustfully, his fingers rubbing your throbbing cunt through the cloth of your soaked bottoms. You wanted to make him go faster, to palm him so he'd get nice and hard for you, but he's tied your hands up with the ribbon you'd left out after wrapping...and now you were defenseless.

"W-wanderer! O-oh my gosh please! Nnnhh! Need more!"

"What's that? Does the slut need my fingers in them? Are you that desperate already...mmm if you want it, use your manners and ask with a please like you fucking should~" His free hand wrapped around your neck, forcing you to look at him as he intentionally slowed your breathing. You struggled against your binds, your mind blanking as heat pooled in between your legs, "P-pleaase"

He smirked, letting air flow into your lungs just long enough you caught your breath. His fingers traced the band of your underwear teasingly, they were damp with your slick and the way they touched your skin made you dizzy, but...you'd done what he'd asked why wasn't he..

"You look confused...did you actually think I'd give you what you wanted from that alone? You only get my fingers when I want you to~" He swirled his thumb around your clothed clit, chuckling menacingly as you moaned out his name and begged...

"Pathetic."

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Merry Christmas~*⁠.⁠✧

#bedos christmas event #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #wanderer headcanons #wanderer smut #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #genshin wanderer #wanderer fanfic

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blingblong55 · 11 months

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Are you hurt? - Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request:

GN!Reader, Doctor!reader, MDNI, 18+, Smut

You have been recently been assigned to a new base, thanks to the recommendations of Kate Laswell. 141 had recently arrived back at base, their assignment was a tough one to complete, unfortunately for Ghost, he found himself injured. He was dragged to the infirmary despite him saying he was more than okay.

It was a known fact he hated medics, never trusted one, ever. Your team of nurses waited for him in a private room.

''Sir, you have to sit down!'' the nurses tried to control him. ''fuck off I don't need the help!''

You walked in after hearing all the commotion. You sent all the nurses away and closed the curtains and door. It was now you and him in the room.

''Mr. Riley, either I help you or you bleed out.''

''Ghost.'' he said in an annoyed tone.

''..right, Ghost, so will you let me help you? or will I have to sedate you?'' You prepared a needle for him, he shook his head.

''no one else can help, you understand?''

''Alright, just sit steady and I'll clean and close your wounds.'' you have him a small kind smile. After you closed the wound by his abdomen, you noticed some blood leaked down from his balaclava. He knew you had noticed it too, he looked away.

''take it off.''

''my mask?''

''yes.''

''negative''

You shrug and reached for the needle and prepared his arm to be injected. ''I try to be nice and reasonable, but I have a job to do.''

''Fine, but only attend the wound, no wandering.''

You nod and smile. Soon you slowly took the mask off. The way he looked even under the black eye pain and the dead look on his eyes, still made you blush.

His cheek was bleeding, a somewhat deep cut on it. You gently and carefully cleaned and closed the wound. ''that wasn't so bad was it?'' you smiled as you cleaned up the table by you.

He stayed silent and just looked at you.

''I don't recommend you putting that dirty mask on, you'll get an infection.''

And he didn't say a word, he just stared at you. Inspected your every little detail.

''Thanks.'' he got up from the bed and walk towards the door. He turned back to you, in your hands you had two surgical masks.

''Put one on and take the other.'' it was as if you knew he would ask for one. He takes them from your hand and leaves.

For a few days you two pass each other, you smiled at him and he gives you a small nod. At times when he wouldn't see you eat with the other doctors or medics, he would look for you. He would walk around the hallways of the offices or wander around the medical center. One day he hadn't seen or heard from you, so as usual he went looking for you.

You took your gloves off and walked away from a patients room. He carefully trailed behind, you could feel his presence. You stepped into your office and intentionally left the door open.

''might as well come in.'' you said. All he did was stand by the doorway. ''hi.'' was all he could come up with.

''Hey,'' you smiled at him.

''Can I take a seat?''

You nod as he slowly closes the door behind him and takes a seat in front of your desk. You two awkwardly stare at each other.

''are you hurt?''

''no, I just wanted to talk.'' His eyes trailed to your lips, those war plump lips of yours. How they widened more as you smile or talk about something you liked.

''Ghost?''

''Simon, call me Simon when we are all alone.''

''right..so Simon, what is it that you wanted to talk about?''

His mind went blank. For days since your delicate hands touched his body he had been dreaming about you. He would touch himself at night, dreaming of your body bouncing on his as you two got off each others high. How he would leave marks on your neck each time you moaned his name. He would love to have a taste of you.

''Simon?''

And in that moment he looked around to make sure all curtains were closed, he locked the door and approached you.

''can I kiss you, love?''

You didn't say anything but gave him a small nod. His lips brushing against yours. He was hungry for you, his tongue exploring your mouth as yours did the same. His hands roamed your body, having a feeling for what he knew he would soon call his.

He pulled away, a small smile on him. ''let me please you, love.'' and you allowed him to. He slowly bit your neck, leaving small marks around it.

His throbbing cock leaking pre-cum each time he heard your moans. So soft and delicate, it drove him mad.

He unzipped his pants and took his now hardened cock out. "go on love, I know you want to." You mouth slowly reached for his throbbing cock. It was so sensitive and warm, he tasted somewhat sour and sweet, but you not once complained. He moaned as you pumped his cock. He was so needy for you, wanting to push you more in. You gagged and cried as his hands pushed your further down. Whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth you would jerk it off.

His cock twitching as his cum leaked inside of your sweet mouth. He made you look at him, your eyes dazed as if you had just gotten drunk on his sweet cum.

His hands closing your mouth, ''drink it, we don't want to waste this do we?'' you shake your head and slowly swallow his seed. You opened your mouth to show him it was empty, some of his thick sticky cum rolling down your neck.

''Good boy/girl. Did so well for me.'' he kissed you, he wrapped his arms around your waste.

''why don't you meet me at my room after your shift, think you'll like what I planned for both of us.''

-----

A/N: I know this is short, but I had to feed my hungry mask kinked whores <3

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imdonecookingstopfollowingme · 1 year

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in light of the 3k notes from my latest post (i cant believe yall bought that) here's another excerpt that i made to practice action writing (LMAO 😭😭😭) as gratitude. maybe the last one i'll post too bc im not even planning to stay in this acc for long. i'm making it vague. imagine whoever fits the narrative.

WARNING: explicit sexual content.

His self-serving teasing play at the kitchen counter and how you must be careful with your wishes because he always ensures that it's granted.

"Are you close?"

"Please—" you are, indeed, and you don't like it, "I want to—w-want to—"

"I know, I know," He let you bury your head in his neck. Perhaps it was a wrong call on you, though, as his husky smell only riled you up further. "Want to cum with me inside, yeah?"

"Yes. Please, I need to,"

"But how long do you think you could last with me teasing the hell out of you?"

"Have I done something bad to you? Just tell me if I—"

He cut you off with a kiss. It's not only the sensation of gliding lips that teeters you to the edge, but also his fingers gathering momentum—sliding it in and out, messily scissoring inside, stimulating every nerve and spurting fluids at any chance it could get. You couldn't even kiss him properly anymore; he latched on your lower lip instead as you gape your mouth open.

You're sure you'll cum any second from now so you did the last needed begging, "Put in inside, please."

"Why?"

"I want—hah—want to milk you dry. Want your cum inside me. Want to—" finally, he halted his fingers with that. "Want to clench on you, please. Please?"

"Good girl," he gave you a chaste peck, "Take off my clothes."

You followed the order, harshly so, and oh how amused he was at your desperation. He helped you with his polo shirt but left the job of unraveling his pants by yourself. As soon as you were done, he sat you at the counter again. You urged him to enter you but he still didn't; only with his annoying teasing face flashed.

"Just why?"

His fingers played on your core again—but only for a few moment, only with the goal of collecting dollops of your fluids. When done, he wrapped his slick hand all over his cock, stroked himself up and down, all the while kissing you so messily.

You might be too befuddled to speak but bloody hell, that was so fucking hot of him.

He scooted his dick towards you next, but he just rubbed it all over your clit, all without entering your walls. He hummed lowly while lubing himself up, perhaps taking too much pleasure at the thought of having your wetness all over him while teasing you like a bastard.

His spare hand then reached for your fingers and guided it towards your mouth. "Suck it." It sounded stern (or perhaps just a plain desperate one) and so you followed in anticipation despite the desperate whines lurking around your lips.

His next step kind of surprised you; he grabbed your fingers out of your mouth then wrapped it over his dick as well. "Fuck, yeah, that's it."

Now with two hands moving in pace, stroking him so generously, he moaned so sweetly—how you're so good for him, how you're taking him so gorgeously well.

If he, indeed, plans to go on until your mind's blanked out with nothing but desperation, it's damn working. However, his face etching utter pleasure pooled the heat inside you just the same. That's why you decided to play along instead of whining.

"You like that, hm?" you sultrily asked, went to his ear, licked it, and whispered. "It'll feel much better inside me. Just feel how warm and wet it'll be."

"Would it?" So you're right; that was it. He just wants you to convince him so desperately after all. No other reason than tearing your patience into bits until you become a blabbering mess of how you want him to take you. You figured this might be his only agenda for today's session.

That's why you moved his hand away from his dick and slid his fingers into your core all by yourself. "Feel that?" you clenched around him intentionally. You held onto his spare hand, sucked on his fingers then guided it towards your nipple. "Y-yeah. You have this all for yourself. All for—"

He cut you off by opening your legs further and sliding his throbbing member deep inside. It was followed suit with a satisfied chuckle, "Yeah, all mine." and there, his pace blurred the very notion of restraint; nothing in his mind but the same amount of desperation. Seems like he had won and lost at the same time. The noisy slick where both of you conjoint reverberated along with your moans.

"Fucking finally. Oh fuck, oh yes."

"What a good fucking girl. Letting me do you like this? Ah—I'm close."

"W-we'll stay at this fucking counter forever—"

"You must be careful what you wish for—ah fuck—" he was cut off by his loud groan as you felt him spurt his cum inside. You gaped your mouth open; you're milking him dry for all he's worth, just as if you're a plant being watered. The feeling brought you to your peak; what was held down for long came out in shambles, making a mess out of the poor counter, a mess he very much intended to create. Apparently, his teasing made everything so much better.

As the waves slowly ebb, the kitchen was momentarily wrapped in silence. He seemed so satisfied with that, and yet when you tried to get off from the counter and clean up, he pinned you down instead. You shot him a confused look; he returned it so mockingly.

"We'll stay at this fucking counter forever, you said."

Oh yeah, you did. You should've been careful with your wishes.

erwin smith, levi ackerman, aki hayakawa, gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, etc.

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five-one-two-station · 2 months

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Everybody should have their own fun, and this isn't trying to harsh anybody's buzz, but I find the impulse to make your own cutesy/badass Replika oc doing funny or heroic or badass things a little odd. Like, that character you designed as a super badass soldier, or well-armed and armored steely eyed cop type... who would they have been built to fight or police exactly? Remember who all those guns and weapons were intended for use on?

I know we're all sick of discourse over who "gets" the game, and I'm by no means scolding anybody for something that harmless, but what's interesting to me is the sense that designing overtly "cool" Replika personas and OCs, complete with the propaganda poster style imagery, feels a little...

I mean, bluntly, it's like the in-world propaganda worked, unironically, on some level, for many people. Kolibris aren't scary, they're whimsical and fun! Storches aren't notably cruel enforcers and chain gang drivers, they're Protektors! Falke isn't a camp commandant, she's a beautiful angel!

The Replikas aren't cool and heroic figures in the reality of the game. They're the carefully crafted organs of a system of control so dreadful it could do what it did to Elster and Ariane. They're victims to that system themselves too, sure - and humanising them is a nuanced and valuable observation of how totalitarian regimes maintain themselves - but that doesn't negate the fact they're also the ones who operate, enforce and perpetuate it, a big part of what the game knows and communicates about such societies. It's notable that the game makes it clear few, if any, of the Replikas actually buy into the Nation as an ideal at all - they enforce it no less pitilessly anyway, incapable or unsafe to imagine anything else.

Their affectations, pasttimes, trinkets, and even affections for each other, all serve to draw a stark contrast to how callously they regard the gestalts they keep suppressed. Their disposability is something they're conscious and fearful of themselves, but fail to recognise as a commonality with the people they brutalise every day, their business as usual. The only grief, tragedy or suffering they acknowledge is their own - they have no regard for any such things in the humans they have... well, dehumanised.

But S-23 Sierpinski was such a hellhole for most of its denizens under "normal" conditions that the nightmare it becomes is arguably an improvement; if only because there are fewer people left now to suffer it. There's a dark poetry here - because the place's banal cruelty is "off camera" to us, it's very naturally less real to us than the grief of the crying Eule. It's only natural, too, to forget how grim the Replikas' purposes are when you don't have to see anyone endure the brunt of it.

And isn't that the very same effect a state like the Nation is seeking in the first place, by disappearing people away to such dark little corners to have it done? In our world, no less than that one.

That works like a kind of propaganda too, not being able to see it - a propaganda of hidden things, as powerful as any poster. A space that's been intentionally left blank.

Kolibris are literal thought police; they intrude on people's very minds, interrogating them to death as a matter of course, with hardly a care either way. The various Protektor classes are functionally concentration camp guards and slave drivers. Falke and Adler are overseeing what amounts to a gulag, one so unimaginably awful Ariane preferred to spend years of her life alone in space to the prospect of being sent there, and inevitably worked to death, far underground.

I think there's a reason we never see one of those posters for LSTRs in game. How could we be asked to forgive our own if we ever did?

#signalis #signalis spoilers

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toruro · 1 year

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hihi ok so i have a request

hear me out lol

so like svt caring for u /taking you home when u go out w friends to a gathering or something and accidentally eat an edible which has u on mars and u don’t know what to do

kinda funny, kinda soft, kinda idk srry

svt + when you're high

a/n: hi anon! i didn't write individual scenarios because i couldn't think of such different and long scenarios for all thirteen of them but i wrote a few and assigned members to them, so i hope that works! anyways i LOVED this prompt LFMAO? this lwk reminds me of the first time i had an edible and i was like.., ok this isn't working and then i ate more and then it felt like i elevated to the subspace so ngl all of these might just be self inserts.

tags/warnings: recreational marijuana use

w/c: 1.1k

seungcheol, wonwoo, jihoon

he notices you cuddle closer to his side as you and your guys' friends gather by the fireplace, but doesn't think anything of it until he hears you giggling a little too much at a joke he thinks you normally wouldn't find very funny. he’d look down at you and when you look up at him with those dopey eyes he knows something’s up. looking down at the plate on your lap his eyes would widen as he realizes that you ate the edibles. he’d curse himself for not letting you know earlier that they were edibles but realizes that there’s no point in sulking over that now. he would definitely excuse the both of you and take you home but as he tries to get you into the car you’d be incredibly stubborn. “baby get into the car.” you’d literally stomp your feet and shake your head. “no!” he would get slightly irritated, but the look on your face is just so cute that he’s finding it difficult to stay strict. “baby please.” you’d go back and forth for ages, and at some point he thinks he might pull out his hair. safe to say that the next time you’re out with friend, he keeps a close eye on you.

jeonghan, minghao, vernon, chan

he notices you're high right away because you're making zero fucking sense when you speak. like you'll be talking, acting like everything's normal, but then he'd actually listen to what you're saying and you would just be...saying words, not sentences. he would kind of go blank for a second wondering when the hell this happened because you didn't mention anything about wanting to get high tonight, but when he notices the empty plate with a few brownie crumbs left in your hand, he'd put two and two together and figure that you hadn't done this intentionally. he would be slightly upset that no one (himself included) let you know that they were edibles, frowning to himself as he dragged you to the car. you'd get in obediently, still running off your mouth with what nonsense you were going on about earlier, and at some point while driving home, he just really needs you to shut up so he can focus on the gps. he'd pull over so he can reach over to hold your hand, pleading, "babe, please, i love you but i really need you to be quiet. i can't focus on the road." your eyes would well up with tears and he winces as he realizes that he might have just set off a ticking bomb. "you don't wanna hear me talk?" you'd ask quietly voice wavering as he sighs. he'd spend another 15 minutes just trying to convince you that he loves talking to you, he just doesn't want to two of you to die from a car crash.

joshua, jun, mingyu

he's be slightly confused when you go up to him, wide-eyed asking him if he thinks you look pretty tonight because while he knows you love words of affirmation, you usually don't ask for it in social settings. when he'd answer, "of course i think you look pretty," you'd pout and huff and then repeat the question. he'd look at you confused, asking you if you're okay because you're usually not like this. his eyes would flicker around you and your surroundings and that's when he sees the little candy bag that definitely wasn't filled with normal gummies in them. literally will snatch the bag away from you, groaning when he sees it empty. assuming the worst, he would excuse the two of you and take you to the bathroom to talk to you. "how many d'you eat?" you'd give him a funny look. "how many of what?" you'd look so innocent he wants to melt, but he holds up his firm exterior. "the gummies, baby, how many?" you tap your chin funnily before saying, "maybe...one—no wait, like five—honestly i don't know! they were kinda yummy." he sighs, "baby they were edibles." you look at him kind of dumbly. "and? they tasted good." he'd just look at you for a few moments trying to decide what to do with you before piling you into his car to take you home as you run off his ears about how much you love cookies. he wouldn't have the heart to tell you to shut up, because he honestly finds it super cute, but he'd also try his best to keep an eye on you constantly.

soonyoung, dokyeom, seungkwan

he's the life of the party and he honestly thrives in crowds, so when you feel yourself swaying side to side a little, you aren't sure if you should go up to him and interrupt whatever he's got going on, or just sit tight and hope for the best. of course, right now, you aren't in your right mind and the thought of him being annoyed with you for interrupting him sends you spiraling, although you know it's a very unlikely situation. you kind of just sit in the corner and talk with one of your friends until she has to leave and you start feeling unbearably lonely and finally end up marching up to your boyfriend who's having a conversation with a group. when he notices you by his side, he greets you with a smile, "hey baby." wrapping an arm around you, you try to not get lost in the racing thoughts of your mind, saying, "can we go?" he turns to look at you, a little confused. "is everything alright?" your breath would hitch and you'd feel tears well up in your eyes for no reason. you can't really control it, but him wouldn't understand what's going on and be concerned. "are you mad at me?" you blurt out, not being able to stop yourself. "no—babe, what's going on?" he'd ask, pulling you away from the group to talk to you in a hallway. "baby," you'd whine, "i think i ate an edible and now i don't know what to do." his gaze would soften and he'd laugh a little at your tears—he's not laughing at your sorrow, he just knows that you get emotional when you're high and that this wasn't what he was expecting. "okay baby," he says, taking your hand, "let's go." you turn to look at the other people, "but what about your frie—" he cuts you off, "they don't matter. all i care about right now is you."

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grugruel · 6 months

Text

Lust for Vampyr

Pairings: Paul Hill x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A new handsome priest arrives at Crockett Island and youre desperate for his attention, but when he seems to be avoiding you, you do the only logical thing. Show up at his door

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: Blasphemy, age-gap (reader over 20), oral sex (f! receving), pinv sex, rough sex, praise kink, slight thigh kink? Little bit of edging and cock-warming, tasting of blood (vampire shenanigans), PRIEST KINK.

Id never really found any interest in attending mass, despite my parents insistent attempts to drag me along. I had been watching the old monsignor preach for years now until he left for his pilgrimage, leaving a blank spot for a new priest to take his place.

Paul Hill had he called himself, and it was like lightning struck. All of a sudden I had a new fevor for the faith and although I had moved out long ago, my parents were thrilled to say the least. Little did they know though, that a fire had stirred within me. I started with innocent glances, admiring him from a far, telling myself it was just because of his enthusiastic way of preaching. But then getting a thing for his tall stature, big hands and stark black hair. He had me cleching my thighs together as I sat next to my parents in the church pews.

He made me want to confess my every sin to him and eventually I did, when I grew desperate enough. Just for the chance to hear him breath in that quiet intimate way I had begun to crave.

We had met briefly, just to introduce ourselves, but thats it. I wanted to talk to him more though, learn more about him. So I started lingering after mass, telling my parents to go on ahead without me just so I could get a word with the new father. But he usually dissapered into thin air before I got the chance, seemingly avoiding me like the black death.

Which Is how I ended up in my current situation. It was after the usual mass, I had dressed extra nicely tonight. I was standing in the cold on the fathers poarch, knocking on the rectory door in my fancy dress, black tights and mary janes.

I felt out of place, I know I shouldnt be here for this reason, I know I shouldnt have dressed nice in an effort to seduce a man of the church. Shame crept up my cheeks, coloring them a bright red. But I heard shuffling behind the door, then footsteps coming toward me and immedietly regretted my decision.

What was I doing? This is so stupid, hes going to send me away, direct me back to my parents like a lost child. My thoughts came to a sudden halt when the door finally opened, and there he stood. Father Paul.

He was in his regular black shirt and white collar, wearing his tight jeans. His eyebrows rose when he saw me, 'Ah' he sighed, as if expecting me but surprised none the less.

'Father.' I greeted, smiling faintly, 'Youre a busy man, you always disappear after mass, its hard to find time to talk with you.' I told him, he smiled apologetically 'Unfortunately yes, Ive had some urgent business to atend to lately, its taken up all my past time.' He explained as his gaze trailed down my body, eyes lingering on my thighs, 'I- uhm. . .' he shook his head, completley lost in thought when a particularly chilly breeze blew by. He shuddered, apparently noticing the cold for the first time, which managed to break him out of his trance and making him pay attention to my own shivers. Noting the goosebumps lining my arms and collarbones. He met my gaze again, hestitating slightly before moving out of the way 'Its freezing, please do come in.' He said, smiling cheapishly. 'Thank you.' I whispered as I passed him, intentionally brushing against his arm and hoping that he would catch a whiff of my perfume.

He closed the door behind us and made his way to the kitchen, 'Tea?' He asked.

'Yes please.' I answered and he smiled to himself, pleased with my manners. He gestured to the armchair in the middle of the room, 'Please, sit.' He urged me, then put a kettle of water on. I nodded and sat down, crossing my legs.

We waited on our opposite ends of the room, an akward silence settling over us. Finally though, the wistle of the kettle rang through the rectory and he made us two cups and sat down on the sofa opposite me. He handed me my cup and our fingers brushed as I took it, our eyes met, lingering on eachother. But he cleared his throat and looked away, 'So what brings you here?' He questioned.

I rested the cup in my lap as I tried to come up with an appropriate answer. 'We havent peoperly met, I suppose. . I simply wished to get to know you a bit better.' I said shyly.

He smiled, 'Well ofcourse, thats reasonable enough. Did you have any specific questions in mind?' He asked, sipping his tea.

I blanked completley, what was my plan here? 'I- No, not really. Uhm.' I stumbled ahead blindley.

He chuckled, 'Youre never this nervous in confessional are you.'

My face lit up in shame, averting my faze from him 'Well father, I suppose it gets easier in the dark.' I said, sipping my tea nervously.

He chuckled, 'I suppouse it would yes.'

I nodded gravely, looking back at him and found that his eyes had drifted to my body. It took me by surpise, but pleased me grately, 'Father?' I asked, trying to get his attention.

'Mmhm?' He hummed distantly, not taking his eyes off of me. Perhaps I wasnt so far off in coming here after all, my tights and skirt seemed to be working. Gaining some confidence, I uncrossed my legs and his gaze followed them intently. God, all he needed to was look at me and I was his, completley and utterly. In a sudden surge of brazenness, I let the cup rest in my lap again, clutched in my hands. Then spread my legs wider and slid the cup between my thighs, still in my grip, so that the view of my panties was blocked by that alone.

His bresthing stuttered, a made a sound that was barely a gasp. He rubbed his hands over his face and combed them through his hair in an effort to collect himself. But it did not work, he felt himself being affect by you, in the same way he was everytime he saw you. Which Is why he had to run off, why he had to keep his distance from you.

He sank further into the sofa, liftning his lap to adjust his position and then sat back down. I practically drooled at the sight, a tingling sensation pulsing through my core. I had to close my eyes for a few seconds, making an effort to think straight, at least until the feeling had calmed down and I could talk freely again. I moved my gaze back onto him and our eyes met, communicating with eachother, exchaning desires we could never say aloud.

Both a bit distracted by eachother, I decided to take the bull by its horns, 'Listen, father. I-' I began, but he shut me down instantly.

'Dont-' he said, holding his hand out to stop me, 'I know. . . I know.'

My mouth fell open in shock and I scrambled for an excuse, but I could not find the words. Shame tainting my tounge. 'Ive tried to stay away, but youre persistent. And I told myself that you must be a trial from god, tempting me, testing my faith.' he said, sitting up straighter and looking into my eyes.

'A trial that I will undoubtedly fail.' he confessed. Relief surged through me, he did want me. I reached out to lay a hand on his knee, but he jumped up, walking backward until he hit the kitchen counter. He leaned against it and crossed his arms, ensuring that they could not reach for me. He was fighting his urges, his own body was betraying him. I stood up, walking around to sofa to meet him, but he shook his head 'No, NO!' he shouted, making flinch in response to his sudden outburst.

'Im sorry, but this- this cannot happen.' He gestured between us, 'Whatever this is.' he sighed desperately and I stopped in my tracks, because I knew he was right. But he was just meters away from me, he was in my vecinity. Free to do with me however he pleased, if he pleased.

I whined at the thought, beacuse it could never happen. I grabbed the back of the sofa and bent down to rest my forehead against it, in a desperate attempt to collect my thoughts. A quiet complain reverberated through my body, "Why did it have to be a priest?" I bashed myself, a whine escaping me as I shook my head slowly. I slid forward, resting my elbows on the sofa so that my hands were free to hide my face. If only I could turn invisible, just disappear. But I was too painfully aware of his looming prescence to escape the moment, he kept a safe distance, occupied with battling his own thoughts.

I burned hot, terribly hot, my face ablaze from the shame of my indecent thoughts and actions, in stark contrast to my body which was only lubricated by them. Every single nerve-ending was tingling in reaction of what I craved.

I was trying, but failing very badly to calm myself, when there was movement in my peripheral, it happened so quickly that I was sure I had imagined it. But it was too late either way, because he had appeared behind me. All I noticed was a small gush of air and then he was pushed up against me, hips to ass and I involuntairily froze.

A shuddering gasp came form behind me as he lrt go of his restrictipns and his hands made contact with my skin, one hand moved to hold my hip while the other explored the dip of my lower back, testing its limits. He rubbed a few slow cicles with his thumb onto my skin, seamingly mesmerized by the goosebumps that rose. He stopped, for only a moment and then flattened his hand against the small of my back. He pushed downward with his palm and as if he'd found a hidden button, my back arched, and my breathing faltered. It was as if god himself had touched me and I had to bite my cheek to stop from moaning.

A low intake of breath could be heard from behind me, as if astonished by what he could accomplish. And as he kept the hand on my lower back pushed against me, he strengthened his grip on my hip and pulled me closer to him. When completley flush, I felt him again. But this time, there was an evident hardness in his jeans and I moaned reflexively, I couldnt help myself. How could I be excpected to? The priest of Crockett Island himself was hard, for me. How I did not scream and beg for him to tear me apart right there is beyond me.

He hissed in response to the friction that the thin fabric of my dress created against the rough fabric of his tight jeans. I tried griding against him with what little movement his hold allowed me, which earned me a displeased grunt and smack on the ass in punishment. I had to cover my mouth as another moan threatened to escape me.

Visions of everything I've dreamed of him to do to me flashed through my mind, things I've only ever imagined while touching myself. My entire skin was on fire as I tried to collect myself, scarcly succeding. I could only manage a single word.

'Father?' whispering it quietly, I turned my head a sliver, as far as I dared. It was enough to make out his disheveld state, chest heaving from supressing his heavy breathing, his usually perfect hair fallen in stressed strands over his forehead, his shirtsleeves carelessly folded and rolled up, showing his forearms. Such simple things drove me absolutley feral, I had to restrain myself from shaking in anticipation of his next move, barely daring to move in fear of him retracting from me.

But he never moved and everything was quiet apart from his shuddering breaths, a result of him fighting his most carnal desires. I wanted to touch him, to caress his beautiful face, to feel his skin under my fingers, and although I loved the shallow feeling my impact had on him, I wanted it deeper. So despite my better judgement, I straigthened my arms and moved to stand up and turn to him. But he quickly stopped me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and thrust my body forward into the sofa, my hips colliding with the back of it as he shoved my face into the pillows, cushioning the force of it.

He hadnt wanted me to see him like that, as if I saw him it would all become real. His desires, his unholy thoughts, his betrayal of god. But I did not care, I had crossed that point a long time ago.

'Father, please.' I begged, voice muffled by the pillows. And there was a slow realisation in his movements as he loosened his grip on me and stepped back. Confusion crowded my already full mind, as he began rubbing the back of his head in distress, turmoil brewed inside of him.

'Im so sorry' he whispered. Oh. . . Poor father, he mustve thought I was begging him to stop. 'Please forgive me, I dont know what came over me. I would never want to hurt you, please know that.' he rambeled, meeting my eyes, begging for for my forgiveness.

I stood up, shaking my head in dissmissal as I made my way to the light switch, turning it off, darkness enveloping us. I searched for soothing words to reassure him, 'You could never hurt me father, im yours.' I said and made my way through the darkness to him, trying to locate him from memory, I reached out blindley in an effort to avoid colliding with something but he met me half way, seeing my struggle.

I did not question it as he laced his fingers with mine and led them to his chest, making my heart skip a beat. I slowly traced my hands upward until I felt his face, enjoying everything my working senses had to offer me. His scent and the feeling of his soft shirt and skin. I placed my hands on either side of his face, cradeling him 'Take me now, in the dark.' I said carefully and stod on my tiptoes.

I leaning into him and as he did not retreat, I kissed him once, tenderly. 'Nobody but us will know' I whispered against his lips, then moved to kiss his jaw, feeling him relax under my touch.

'We will repent in the morning' I assured him and then quated myself, '"It gets easier in the dark"' I found his hands, and moved them to my breasts 'Take me now.'

This time, father Paul did not hesitate. He squeezed my breasts as he met my lips forcefully, kissing and biting me like a starved man. One of his hans dove behind my back, while the other found purchase under my ass. He hoisted me up into his arms in one quick motion, I gasped, surpised by his strength.

He walked me to the armchair, setting me down in it and kneeling in fornt of me. He spread my legs with his strong hands, and laid them on each thigh, squeezing hard. His hands slid up my thighs until they met the hem of my dress. He met my eyes, asking for reassurance and I nodded enthusiatically, giving it to him. He continued moving his hands upward, the dress catching on his wrists and follows his movements. He leaned closer, kissing a trail along the inside of my thigh until he came to my core. He ripped my thights open and moved my pantied to the side, and as he already had me go-ahead, he dove right in. I gasped as he made contact with my core, his tounge thrusting inside of me. Tasting my very being, he moved one of his hands to my clit, attacking it feverishly as the other stayed squeezing the soft flesh of my thigh. He was feral, and I loved it. He hummed as he ate me out, absolutley loving every second of it. My moans became needy and high pitched as I grabbed his hair to shove closer, he did not protest. I came hard and fast, closing my eyes as white light blinded my vision, making me dizzy. As I opened my eyes again the room was spinning, and the father sat proud infront of me grinning. 'Youre doing so good, my girl.' He said and rose up to kiss me, I could only manage a smile. To lost in pleasure to do anything else.

He picked me up and walked me to the sofa, laying me down on top of it and puttin almost all of his weight on me. He rested his forearm close to my head, letting it support his weight and tangling his hand in my hair, grabbing it and gently pulling my head to the side. While the other hand traced down my shoulder and lowered the strap of my dress, to gain easier access to my breast, then kneading it greadily. His lips moved from my mouth and kissed their way down to my neck, sucking and licking at that tender spot above my collarbone. I moaned reflexively, which only spurred him on further. His hips were moving against mine, enthusiastically and rythmically with the rest of his body. Our closeness made his clothed erection rubb against my core perfectly. I moved my legs to stradle him, tightening the grip and bringing him even closer to me, then rutting my hips against him. The friction was delicious and that paired with the fathers delerious assault on my neck, his breath hot against my skin and his moans vibrating through me, had me close to coming undone right then and there.

My hands had found their way to his back, scratching and pulling at the fabric, but it wasnt enough. I moved my hands to unbutton his shirt, but struggled due to our position. I grew tired and greedy from not succeeding, so I removed his colar and tore his shirt open, yanking it down his shoulders, but did not manage to get it further. Displeased about ruining his shirt, he bit me, once, hard enough to draw blood. I gasped and he stopped, removing his hand from my breast and slid it to my neck, coating his fingers in my blood. Stunned silence had settled over us, apart form our unanimous labored breathing. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting my blood and it was like he became a whole other person. If lust had not driven him before, it did now. I found it strange, but was to mesmerized by the moment to question it. He stood up, resting one knee on the sofa between my legs and began unbuckling his belt. I bit my lip from anticipation, the sight driving me mad, he looked positively devine. 'Have you done this before?' He asked me, I nodded my head in response, 'Have you, father?' He did not answer, his eyes were just drinking me in.

'Touch yourself.' He ordered, and I wasted no time. I moved my hands down my body, lifting the skirt of my dress with one hand and shoving the other down my panties, sliding it inside me to wet it then circling my clit in slow deliberate motions.

'Oh. . . ' he shook his head, 'Good girl' he praised in a shallow whisper, he looked at me like I was no longer a test from god, but a gift. He moaned as I touched myself, surely I was a sight in itself, my breast out, the skirt shoved up over my thighs and hips and my chest heaving from breathing heavily as he was towering over me. His tussled hair and shirt pulled down beneath his shoulders, exposing his chest and collarbones, his veiny hands working his belt. I closed my eyes as I felt myself coming close, and the sound of him drove me further. The belt buckle clanging, a zipper opening and the rustling fabric of clothes falling to the floor was erotic in a way I never could have suspected. White dots were specking the darkness of my eyelids, and a spring was tightening deep in my stomache. My breathing became frantic as I envisioned the father inside of me. I was a second away, when he snatched my hand out of my panties and I whined in frustration, the specks darkened and I felt moving around me.

I opened my eyes and he was below me, stark naked, holding my hand to his face and licking my slickness from my fingers much like he had done with my blood. 'Beautiful angel, you taste divine.' He sighed.

I moved the hand he was holding the caress his face 'Please father, I cannot wait any longer'. And he odded, sliding his hands under me and lifting my hips to pull my dress upward, once he'd done that I sat up to help him pull the dress over my head. He then lowered himself on top of me, pushing me back into the sofa and resuming his previous position.

'Im yours, only yours father.' I whispered and he kissed me tenderly as his hand traced down my body, feeling every curve on the waw down and pulled my panties to the side. He lined himself up with my entrance, teasing my opening by sliding himself through my folds. My breath caught, 'Please, please, please.' I whined desperstley, begging seemed to be the only thing I was capable of around him.

He suddenly slid inside and we gasped in unisome, our eyes met and we stayed like that for a while. No one moved, no one talked, we just admired eachother silently while he let me adjust to his size. He raised his eyebrows, as if asking for consent and I nodded eagerly, pecking him on the lips. He slid out of me completley, confusing me terribly and I desperatly clung my arms around his shoulders, burrying my hands in his hair to make him stay. But he only chuckled in response and kissed my arm lovingly, then slammed back into me. Setting a brutal pace, almost knocking the air out of my lungs.

I could not tell whos moans belonged to who, but amidst the frenzy he gave me a few short kisses on the lips in reassurance, then nuzzled his nose against my cheek and moved his forehead to the crook of my neck, whispering against my skin 'Youre doing so good, sweet girl.' His sweet words were a stark contrast to his hard, fast thrusts.

A few hours ago I was nervously getting ready for mass, dressing nicely in hope of the new priests approval, and now hes ballsdeep inside me.

He moved his hand to my clit, rubbing it in fast circles. I covered my mouth with one hand as a scream threatened to escape me, while the other tore into his back, leaving long red scratch marks and he hissed into my neck. Enjoying every part of the pain and pleasure mixing with eachother.

He straigthened his arm to sit back anf change position, but never relenting his pace. He raised my hips onto his thighs, placing one hand on my waist in a grip that will be leaving bruises on my skin, and pushing the other hand down on my abdomen while still circling my clit with his thumb. His thrusts hit that spot inside me that made my toes curl and it all became quite overwhelming, about to push me over the edge.

'Im- Im close' I managed inbetween breaths and he hummed, nodding as his own movements became irregular. I grabbed onto the cushions for dear life as I was tipping over the edge, electricity sparked between us, and all of a sudden I felt thunder tearing through me and he collappsed on top of me. His thrusts slowed down, allowing me to ride through my high.

'Good girl' he sighed and kissed my forehead as his ruts came to a stop and pride surged thorugh me.nHe stayed inside me, laying comfortably with me as oour breaths calmed together. I could feel his seamen sippering out of me, and I loved it. Because it was him.

'Will you stay with me tonight?' He asked.

'If you'll have me.' I answered, smiling as he kissed my lips.

#paul hill #father paul hill #father paul #hamish linklater #midnight mass #father paul smut #paul hill smut #john pruitt #monsignor pruitt #john pruitt smut #priest kink #paul hill x reader #father paul x reader

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ghosttotheparty · 2 years

Text

with your fingers to my throat/id let you take it all

Eddie’s noticed things about Steve, and the way the others interact with him.

When everyone is talking in a group, their voices overlapping and raising in volume until Eddie is wincing and barely able to follow along, Steve doesn’t ever seem to pay attention. Sometimes he looks back and forth between them, his expression blank and often confused, his pretty eyes shining.

And then afterwards Robin or Nancy or Dustin talks to him privately, and Eddie wonders. He watches while they talk, while Steve nods and responds, his brows furrowed in focus, his eyes trained on their mouths.

And Eddie wonders.

“Hey, Buckley,” he says, dropping onto the sofa next to her. They’re in the Wheeler’s basement, and he watches Steve talking to Nancy in the corner. She shows him something, falling quiet as he looks at it intently, and then he looks back at her again before she continues to speak.

“Munson,” Robin greets dryly, flipping through a magazine, both of her legs pulled up on the sofa in front of her.

“I got a question, about— about Harrington.”

“I don’t know what he uses for his hair,” she says, flipping a page. “You have to ask him. I think Dustin might know but I’m pretty sure he took a blood pact to not tell anyone.”

“That’s…” Eddie blinks at her. “That’s not my question. I am curious now, though.”

“What’s the question?” she asks, lowering the magazine and looking at him. Her bangs are overgrown, falling in her sparkly eyes, but she doesn’t seem to care. “What can I do you for?”

“I…” He hesitates, glancing back at Steve and Nancy. They’re both laughing, Nancy gesturing with her hands while she talks. “This is, maybe, a… Weird question, but.”

“Ask.”

“Is Harrington, like… deaf?”

She blinks blankly at him, her eyelashes fluttering. She’s awfully pretty. (Not that Eddie’s told her.)

“Did you not know?”

“No?” She snorts at his reaction, his expression. “What the fuck?”

She laughs, shrugging.

“I thought you knew,” she says. “Everyone knows.”

“I didn’t!” he exclaims angrily, keeping his voice low. “How the fuck didn’t I know? Was he— Was he deaf in school?”

“No.” She shakes her head, looking back at the magazine. “It’s a recent development. Head trauma, y’know.”

“Jesus.” He looks back at Steve. His eyes are trained on Nancy’s mouth, a smile teasing his lips as she speaks. “Is he like… completely deaf? Or…”

“Kind of?” Robin says, flipping a page. “His left ear is completely deaf, I think. And the he, like, can only hear some things with his right ear. Really loud noises, and some, like, specific things. But he says voices are really hard to hear.”

“So he reads lips?”

“Yeah.”

“Would… Can he go see a doctor?” he asks. She sighs. “Like to get a hearing aid or something? I don’t really know how any of it works.”

“I don’t know,” she says, following his gaze to watch Steve. “He refuses to go to the doctor.” She hesitates for a second, twisting her mouth. “Neither of us really like the idea of going after the whole Russian-doctor-bone-saw thing.“

He looks at her. He still doesn’t really know what all happened with the Russian-doctor-bone-saw thing, but he never wants to ask. Not when Robin’s eyes dim slightly every time it comes up, and not when he knows it stops both of them from seeking medical attention. And not when he knows it must have something to do with Steve’s hearing loss.

“Nancy and I are trying to talk him into seeing an eye doctor, though,” she adds, looking back down at the magazine.

“Is his vision bad?” Eddie asks, his eyes still watching Steve. He’s not really observing anymore, at least not intentionally. But his eyes catch on the angle of his jaw, and the way he rubs at the scar around his neck absentmindedly. It isn’t as noticeably as Steve probably thinks it is.

“‘S not great,” she says lightly. “And when he gets headaches he sees, like spots. He doesn’t talk about it a lot, but I think that’s just because he doesn’t like people worrying about him.”

Eddie hums softly. He doesn’t notice Robin look over at him, seeing the way his eyes follow Steve’s every move, or the way his gaze has softened.

“Maybe you can talk him into going,” Robin says lightly. Eddie scoffs, finally looking away. He catches her eye before she looks back at the magazine and his cheeks flush.

“I have a feeling he won’t wanna listen to me.”

“I have a feeling he would,” she says, but before he can ask what the hell she means by that, the door to the basement opens and Mrs Wheeler’s voice calls Nancy’s name. Eddie scrambles, falling off the sofa and hiding out of sight even though she isn’t coming down the stairs.

Nancy has to leave to get Mike from Dustin’s house, even though she complains about it. (Mike said he could bike home. Nancy is not happy. It’s going to be a very uncomfortable car ride home.) Eddie sneaks out the back while Robin and Steve say goodbye to the Wheelers, hiding in the backseat of Steve’s car. When Robin slides into the passenger seat, she reaches back and smacks the top of his head. He reaches around the seat and smacks her back, swatting at her face, and Steve snorts, shaking his head at them.

Robin smacks at Eddie before she gets out of the car when they drop her off, and Eddie watches Steve walk her to the door and kiss her forehead before he comes back. He stops as he’s headed back to the car, tilting his head as Eddie struggling to climb into the passenger seat.

“You’re in charge of music,” Steve says as he’s buckling himself in, looking at Eddie.

Eddie flicks through the radio stations until he finds his favourite; the music is loud and heavy and intense, rough guitar riffs and drum beats so strong Eddie can feel them in his bones. When he looks over at Steve, Steve is smiling absently, the streetlights and stoplights shining on his face.

Their nighttime routine is a comfort to Eddie. It’s quiet, even with the remnants of his heavy music echoing in his head like it’s empty. They both shower when they get home. Steve takes longer showers than Eddie, and Eddie listens to the fall of the water as he heads to the living room. He flicks the lamps around the room on so it’s not too dark, all the curtains drawn. (The curtains are almost always drawn. Steve’s neighbors live far enough away that he doesn’t particularly worry about them seeing him through the windows, and it’s not like they even come by just to chat with Steve, but Steve doesn’t want to risk anything.)

Steve comes into the living room as Eddie is grinding the weed in his lap, and he leans over the back of the sofa, gently using his own towel to dry the dripping ends of Eddie’s hair. Eddie doesn’t move, but he laughs lightly, remembering every Thanks, sweetheart he’s said sarcastically that Steve never responded to.

“What are you laughing at?” Steve asks when he finishes drying his hair, collapsing onto the sofa next to him and looking at him with his shining eyes. It’s dim enough in the living room that his eyes look almost black, shiny and wide like some curious puppy. Eddie looks away, running his tongue along the edge of the rolling paper. “What’s funny?”

Eddie sticks the joint between his lips, suppressing a smile and feeling around his leg for the lighter. Steve watches him.

He lights the joint, the flame lighting up his face for a moment, and then he takes a long, slow drag, turning to face Steve by leaning his back against the armrest of the sofa and pulling his legs up between them.

“You know I didn’t know you’re deaf until today?”

Steve blinks blankly at him before—

“You didn’t know?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, and he shakes his head, watching as Steve grins and laughs in disbelief.

“No idea,” Eddie says, holding the joint out for Steve, who takes it, his fingers brushing Eddie’s lightly. “I had… an inkling today and asked Buckley.”

Steve laughs lightly, shaking his head as he takes a drag from the joint.

“How have you never noticed?” he asks, smoke drifting around his face. “There’s never been, like…” He shrugs, taking another short drag. “Any kind of misunderstanding, or…”

Eddie thinks for a second, sighing, leaning against the back of the sofa. He shrugs after a moment.

“Not really?” he says. Steve’s eyes are trained on his mouth. “I’ve said some things and you didn’t respond, but I never really worried about it.” Steve raised his eyebrows, smiling amusedly as he smokes. “But never anything that really needed a response, so…”

Steve laughs again. His eyes squeeze shut when he does. He’s going to have wrinkles around his eyes when he’s older, crow’s feet and laugh lines. Eddie can’t wait to see the remains and effects of joy and laughter and smiles alongside his scars.

“I think…” he starts, but he trails off. Steve holds the joint back out to him, and he takes it hesitantly, thinking. Steve waits patiently. “I think the reason there’s never been a problem is because I…”

“You what?“ Steve asks. His voice is soft. He mirror Eddie, leaning against the back of the sofa, setting his arm over it and letting his face rest on it.

“I think I just, like… instinctively face you when I’m talking with you. I like looking at you.”

Steve blinks, looking into Eddie’s eyes for a moment.

And then he’s smiling softly.

Eddie looks away, his cheeks flushing as he takes a long drag from the joint, letting the smoke fill his lungs and cloud his brain.

“Is it hard?” he asks Steve after a short while as he’s passing it back over to him. “Reading lips?”

Steve shrugs, blowing smoke into the air between them.

“Sometimes,” he says softly. “It was at first, when my hearing started going, but Robin helped a lot.” He looks at him with a sharp little smile. “Once I figured out how to read her lips I was pretty much good to go.”

Eddie laughs.

“Sometimes Robin and Dustin complain that I talk too quietly,” Steve adds, and then he takes another drag, holding it as he holds the joint out to Eddie and exhaling as Eddie inhales. “I just don’t wanna be yelling all the time, I can’t— I can’t hear myself talk,” he explains, gesturing to his ear with a lazy point. “But I’ve gotten better at speaking at a normal volume.”

“You’re good,” Eddie reassures him. “I like your voice.”

It’s not just the weed getting rid of his filter. He knows it’s not. There’s a lot he wants to say to Steve that he’s been holding back, including that. His voice really is nice. Soft and smooth and low, sometimes breathy in almost-whispers that make shivers run down Eddie’s spine.

“Yeah?” Steve breathes. (There it is.)

“Yeah.” He hesitates, his eyes skimming down to rest at Steve’s lips. “Pretty.”

Steve looks away, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile. Even in the dimness of the room Eddie sees his cheeks flush pink.

Eddie smokes slowly, gazing at Steve, watching as his smile softens and then falls as he looks back up at Eddie. Their eyes meet and Steve looks away, picking at his sweatpants and twisting his mouth like he’s thinking too hard. Eddie nudges his leg with his foot, prompting him to look back up at him.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks. His voice is soft.

Steve shrugs lightly, pausing. He lays against the back of the sofa, curling in on himself. He looks so small, his hair starting to dry, curling slighting and frizzing in a way King Steve would never have let happen. Eddie wants to run his hands through it. He wants to take Steve into his arms and hold him until he falls asleep.

“I don’t really mind it,” Steve says after a moment. “It was hard to get used to at first, and it kinda freaked me out because I— I couldn’t hear if anything was happening behind me or when I going to sleep, but now I…” He shrugs, still avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “I don’t mind it,” he says again.

Eddie waits as Steve takes a deep breath, leaning over to the coffee table to drop the joint in the ashtray. He moves back to mirror Steve, curling an arm under his head against the sofa.

“I used to get really overwhelmed by noise,” Steve continues. “In the cafeteria, or in the gym, and my…” He takes a shuddering breath. “My dad used to yell a lot. I hated that.“

Steve’s parents left after the “earthquakes.” They barely even said goodbye. Steve never really talked about it, never seemed to be sad about it, but sometimes Eddie sees his face when he thinks no one’s looking. One night he heard him crying. Eddie doesn’t think he’s sad about them leaving, per se, but rather that they didn’t care enough to tell him they loved him. That they’d miss him. They left him a house, but not a phone number he could contact them at.

“The quiet is nice,” Steve says softly. “But sometimes I…” He hesitates, glancing at Eddie, who nudges him again with an eyebrow raise.

“Sometimes I wish I could hear you,” Steve says breathily, rushed and quiet and shy, his eyes avoiding Eddie’s. “I don’t really remember what you sound like from school, but I— I bet your voice is nice.”

Eddie’s face flushes with heat.

Some time passes. Steve doesn’t look at Eddie, so Eddie doesn’t say thing. But he looks at Steve, at the way he gazes blankly as his own lap, at the worn fabric of the sofa between them, a soft of sad acceptance in the golden reflecting shining in his eyes.

Eddie takes a breath, sitting up and moving closer. Steve looks at him.

“Wanna try something,” Eddie whispers. Steve blinks at him. Nods. Eddie holds his hand out.

Steve carefully slides his hand into Eddie’s, and Eddie’s brain stops working for a moment, overwhelmed by the warmth of Steve’s skin against his. He runs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, taking a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever the hell happens.

Slowly, he raises Steve’s hand to his own neck, using both hands to press Steve’s fingers to his throat. Steve’s eyes meet his. His brows are furrowed in confusion, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

Eddie swallows anxiously, letting go of Steve’s hand and opening his mouth, stammering before he says, “Can you feel it?”

Steve blinks, slowly sitting up and looking down at his fingers against Eddie’s throat. His eyes widen and flick up to Eddie’s then down to his mouth.

“Say something.”

Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile, and he shifts closer. Steve’s fingers press harder. Eddie hopes he can’t feel his heartbeat.

“I— I don’t know what to say.”

“Anything,” Steve says breathlessly. “Say anything.”

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Eddie says. He lets himself just talk, a weight being lifted off his shoulders with every word. “I’ve— I’ve always thought so, Steve, you’re gorgeous.“

Steve’s face softens, his cheeks flushing pink. He shifts closer until they’re sitting cross-legged in front of each other, their knees pressing together, Steve’s hand pressing to Eddie’s throat.

Steve prompts him with a little jerk of his chin. Eddie smiles.

He sings You are my sunshine. Steve starts to smile when he recognizes the words, watching Eddie’s lips raptly, his other hand moving to rest on Eddie’s leg.

“Alright?” Eddie asks when the song is done. Steve nods. His eyes are glistening, shining like he might cry. “What are you thinking?”

“I like it,” he says, choking on his words. Eddie sets a hand over the one that Steve has on his leg. “The way your voice feels. And your… your heartbeat.“

“Oh, you can feel that too?” Eddie asks quietly. Steve nods, snickering softly. “So you know I’m freaking out right now?”

“You don’t need to freak out,” Steve whispers, his fingers shifting on his neck, shaking his head. “It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

Steve hesitates, biting his lip, his eyes trained on his hand on Eddie’s neck.

“I like…” He looks at Eddie’s eyes. “I like knowing you’re alive.”

Eddie blinks.

“Like—“ Steve stammers, his mouth moving silently, and Eddie squeezes his hand, rubbing his knuckles soothingly. “Your heartbeat. I can feel that you’re alive. It’s the same reason I like your scars.”

Eddie can’t fight the little smile that crawls across his face. He reaches up and traces the scar around Steve’s neck, watching Steve’s eyes flutter shut. When he looks back at Eddie, Eddie says, “I like your scars too.”

Steve kisses him.

His hand tightens on Eddie’s throat, pulling him in, and Eddie’s eyes widen before they squeeze shut and his hands fly to hold Steve’s face between them. Steve’s cheeks squish under his palms, and Steve’s other hand squeezes Eddie’s thigh tightly.

Steve pulls away after a moment with a sharp gasp, his eyes wide, and as his eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s, Eddie starts to smile.

“Sorry,” Steve says breathlessly, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t apologise,” Eddie tells him. Steve’s eyes flick to his throat. “I want you to, it’s okay.”

Steve exhales, still looking at him frantically, and Eddie holds his face as gently as he can, nodding and smiling and breathing heavily despite the kiss being brief.

“It’s okay,” he says again. Steve’s fingers press into his neck, and then he seems to melt, falling forward until his forehead rests on Eddie’s cheek, his shoulders slumping. Eddie closes his eyes, pushing his hands into Steve’s hair gently. It’s tangled and still a little damp, but Steve hums softly, and Eddie combs through it.

Steve sighs heavily, his other hand sliding up to hold Eddie’s hip, slipping over the creases of his sweatpants.

He finally lifts his head after a while, looking at Eddie almost sleepily, releasing his leg and reaching up to hold his cheek, and then he’s kissing him again.

His lips are soft against Eddie’s, and he tastes like weed and the sweet strawberries Mrs Wheeler brought down as Eddie hid behind the stairs, and Eddie sighs, combing through his hair again and scratching at his scalp and smiling against his lips when Steve hums softly.

Steve pulls away, sliding his tongue over his lips, tilting his head before he leans back in, kissing him like he doesn’t want to breathe. Eddie’s fingers tighten in his hair, and Steve’s tighten on his neck, and then Steve’s lips are parting and his tongue is slipping across Eddie’s lip, and Eddie is combusting. His jaw drops so Steve can press his tongue into his mouth, and a strangled groan escapes him.

Steve whimpers and presses his hand harder against his throat, his other hand holding his face. His thumb brushes over the mangled and scarred skin of Eddie’s cheek lightly.

When Eddie pulls away, Steve’s lips are kissed red, and Eddie ignores the flutter of pride in his stomach.

“Lay back,” Eddie says when Steve looks at him blearily, and Steve wordlessly shifts, pushing his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him down on top of him as he falls onto his back. Eddie catches himself with a hand to the sofa, laughing lightly, grinning at the way Steve blinks up at him, the way his hair fans out underneath him.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Steve tugs at his curls.

“Kiss me,” he says softly, lifting his chin. “Please, come— come here.”

Eddie lowers himself on top of him, and Steve is already opening his mouth desperately, closing his eyes. Eddie wishes he had a photographic memory. Or a camera.

He leans down and kisses him, carefully, tenderly pulling Steve’s lip between his own, listening to Steve’s breath hitch, feeling his hands run over the back of his neck under his hair. Steve falls lax, melting into the sofa as Eddie sucks on his lip, as Eddie leans over onto one arm and runs his other hand through his hair, pets his cheek, traces lines over his neck.

Steve lets him do what he wants, sighing and shifting closer until he slides a hand to Eddie’ neck again, pressing over his throat and moving his legs so one slips between Eddie’s. And he presses up.

A moan escapes Eddie, and Steve grins.

Eddie pulls away, groaning.

“You fucker.”

Steve giggles. Eddie shakes his head fondly at him, and then he’s pressing onto Steve’s leg and leaning down to kiss him deeply, moaning softly as Steve pushes his knee up and flicks his tongue across his lips. Steve is breathing heavily, one hand to Eddie’s throat, the other reaching down to tug at his hips, pulling him against himself, and Eddie sighs, sucking at Steve’s lip, his tongue, biting and licking as Steve clutches at him.

When Eddie pulls away, Steve’s lips and chin are glistening, and his cheeks are flushed, and it takes a few moments for him to open his eyes. He takes a heavy breath before he speaks.

“Never been kissed like that before.”

“No?” Eddie says breathlessly, resisting the urge to close the distance between them again. Steve shakes his head. “Was it okay?”

Steve swears under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, Eddie,” he breathes. Eddie doesn’t know why, but just his name in Steve’s mouth makes him shiver. Everyone calls him Eddie. It’s not a pet name or a special nickname. But the way Steve makes it sound? Eddie wants to legally change his name to Eddie in Steve’s voice. “It was okay, it was more than okay.”

Eddie grins, brushing the side of his pretty face with his fingertips before he kisses him again, slower and more carefully, pushing his tongue to slide along Steve’s, and Steve lets his mouth hang open, humming softly, pulling at his hips again before his hand slowly slips under Eddie’s sweatshirt.

Eddie pulls away for a moment, tilting his head and leaning back in, licking across Steve’s smiling lips. Steve’s fingers are warm against the small of his back, dancing deftly over his spine under his sweatshirt, and Eddie thinks he might actually have died during the whole Vecna thing. He never thought he’d make it to heaven. But that’s the only rational explanation.

Because Steve Harrington is making out with him. Messily, and sloppily, the way Eddie likes it. (Steve seems to like it too, if Eddie were to judge based on the soft whimpers and gasps that escape him.) Wrapping his legs around his hips, holding his throat tightly and pressing just over Eddie’s ass like he’s too nervous to touch it. Sucking at his lips and tongue messily until spit is sliding between them. Humming and moaning as Eddie kisses across his cheeks (spreading said spit unintentionally, but neither of them really give a shit) and down his neck. Pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair and tugging as Eddie kisses the long scar across his neck.

Eddie sits up after a second, looking down at Steve and admiring him. He’s panting, flushed and squirming on the sofa, his lips bitten red and bruised. His chin and cheeks are shining with spit, and Eddie wants to lick it off, so he does.

Steve giggles as Eddie drags his tongue over his cheek, one of his hands burying itself in Eddie’s hair and tugging enough that he groans. Eddie licks across his face, even over his closed eye, and Steve is smiling softly, almost basking in Eddie’s affection.

Steve’s hand hesitates over the small of Eddie’s back as Eddie is dragging the tip of his tongue over the scar on his neck, lifting and hovering, and Eddie sighs. He settles on a spot on his neck, digging his teeth into his skin lightly and listening to Steve whine as Eddie reaches back, grabbing Steve’s hand with his own and pushing it to his ass. Steve’s fingers grab him immediately, and Eddie lets out a soft moan, releasing his hand and running his hand up Steve’s arm.

His sweater is soft, and his arm is soft, and his grip on Eddie is soft, even when he squeezes, and Eddie smiles as he sucks on his neck.

He pulls away after a while, soothing the blossoming bruise with a swipe of his tongue, and looks at Steve, who looks up at him blearily, whining under his breath.

“Can I take this off?” Eddie asks when Steve’s eyes land on him, tugging his shirt, and Steve nods, squeezing Eddie again before he shifts, sitting up. Eddie settles between his legs, carefully pulling Steve’s sweatshirt over his head, mussing his hair, and he tosses it away without looking to see where it lands.

He leans down, pressing desperate kisses across Steve’s and neck and collarbones, sliding his hands across his chest.

“Eddie—“ Steve gasps as Eddie thumbs over his nipples, and Eddie grins, pulling away to watch him throw his head back let out a strained exhale. “Shit.”

Eddie does it again, smiling lazily and tilting his head, watching Steve bite his lip, furrow his brows, breathe heavily, until Steve smacks his hands away like he doesn’t really want to.

“Off,” he says, reaching for the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt, and Eddie pulls away, hesitating for only a second before he pulls his shirt up over his head and tosses it away, shaking his hair out of his face.

Steve is staring at him, his eyes lidded and dark. They skim down his chest, lingering at his tattoo before they land on the scars that cover his sides. Eddie wants to cover them, to find his shirt and put it back on so Steve will stop staring.

Steve reaches out slowly, his fingertips dancing across the scarred skin. It tickles, the touch feather light and barely there, and Eddie closes his eyes. Steve traces every scar, trailing his fingertips over his sides and chest and upper arms, and then one of his hands pulls away.

There’s a moment before his palm presses to Eddie’s throat, and Eddie exhales as Steve falls against his shoulder, his forehead pressing into the side of Eddie’s neck. Eddie opens his eyes, glancing at him enough to wrap his arms around him, sliding his hands over his bare back and into his hair. He’s so warm. Eddie closes his eyes again.

“Say something for me,” Steve says softly. Eddie looks at him again. He isn’t looking.

“I love you,” he says, feeling Steve’s hand press harder against his throat, and he lets his head fall back, exhaling. His breath hitches in his throat. “I love you so much, Stevie, I love you.”

Steve whimpers as he speaks, his fingers tightening on the sides of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie feels almost lightheaded. He tugs Steve’s hair gently, speaking again, low and quiet but loud enough that Steve can feel it against his hand.

Steve is crying. Eddie can feel his tears on his own skin, can hear the way Steve’s breath catches in his throat and feel the way he’s shaking. Eddie plays with his hair gently, runs a hand over the back of his neck, and he talks.

It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. I’m alright, I’m right here. You’ve got me, you can hold onto me. I’ll take care of you.

When Steve finally lifts his head, his lashes are soaked, his cheeks tearstained, and Eddie’s neck gets cold. He reaches to wipe his cheeks tenderly, nodding.

“What did you say?” Steve asks quietly. Eddie blinks, his cheeks flushing with heat.

“I said a lot,” he says. Steve smiles, tilting his head, wordlessly asking again. Eddie hesitates, his eyes flicking across Steve’s face. He looks exhausted, tear streaked and red cheeked, his eyes half closed, lips swollen from kisses, neck spotted with bites and bruises. He looks throughly fucked, content and relaxed despite his tears. Eddie brushes a hand over the side of his face.

“I love you,” he breathes.

Steve blinks, his eyes raising to meet Eddie’s. He looks back and forth between Eddie’s eyes, glances back at his lips, tightens his grip on his neck.

“Say it again,” he whispers.

“I love you.” Steve swallows, his eyebrows furrowing and his lip quivering, and he releases Eddie’s throat, which goes cold almost immediately as Steve lifts his hand and touches Eddie’s lips. “I love you,” Eddie says again softly.

Steve closes his eyes, and kisses him again a moment later. Eddie’s eyes fall shut, and he cradles the back of Steve’s head as Steve kisses him slowly, deeply.

“Really?” Steve asks desperately when he pulls away. He’s holding Eddie’s face between his hands. Eddie gazes at him, wondering when he last heard those words. He sighs softly, shifting, moving so he’s sitting up on one of Steve’s legs, his fingers running through Steve’s hair as Steve places his hands on his waist.

“I love you,” he says slowly when Steve is looking at his mouth again. “Really, seriously. Definitely. Completely.”

Steve stammers silently for a moment, his hands tightening.

“If— If you don’t kiss me right now, I think I’ll actually die.”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, and he leans down, their mouths crashing together. His hair falls around their faces, hiding them like a curtain, and Steve holds his wrist, his head falling back.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve breathes when they part, panting, his eyes closed. “You’re so good at that.”

Eddie’s stomach flutters, and he giggles.

Steve opens his eyes.

“Surprised?” Eddie asks softly, still smiling. Steve doesn’t answer, tilting his head, sliding his hands to Eddie’s hips, and then he’s pulling, lifting his leg up against Eddie, a smile crawling across his face as Eddie exhales sharply and looking away, ever ounce of pride, of smugness, departing.

He takes a deep breath, consciously refraining from shifting his hips against Steve’s thigh. (Jesus, his thighs. Eddie wants to eat him.) But Steve pulls again, grinning at him.

“I love you too,” he says lightly, pulling at his hips until Eddie gives up, collapsing against him and groaning. “It’s okay, go ahead.”

Eddie slowly grinds against his leg, huffing, staring at him. Steve nods, smiling and smiling.

Eddie whines, squeezing his eyes shut, and he reaches down to grab one of Steve’s hands, pulling it away from where it’s gripping his sweatpants and lifting it to his throat. Steve grips him gently, grinning at him when Eddie moans quietly.

Eddie shifts, desperately moving so his knee presses to Steve, watching as Steve’s brows furrow and he bites his lip. His knee presses harder every time he shifts against Steve’s thigh, and Steve slides a hand to Eddie’s ass again, squeezing.

Steve is noisy. Eddie loves it.

He whines and whimpers and moans, his eyes closed, his head fallen back, murmuring things like yeah and please when Eddie starts licking him again (because he can’t help it). He gets louder as he gets closer, when Eddie reaches down and touches him over his sweatpants.

“I’m so loud, aren’t I?” Steve asks breathlessly, his cheeks flushed as Eddie squeezes him. Eddie laughs lightly, grinding against him, nodding.

“I like it,” he says, just as breathless.

“You like it?“

Eddie nods. He squeezes again, stroking and pulling, and Steve chokes out a whimper, but Eddie sets his other hand on his chin, lifting it up so their eyes meet, and Steve looks at his lips.

“Let it all out, sweetheart.”

Steve’s eyes fall shut. He melts against Eddie, who lets his other hand drift to Steve’s chest, sliding his fingertips over one of his nipples before he pinches, and Steve yelps, his hips bucking up into Eddie’s hand.

“Fuck, Eddie.” He grips Eddie’s throat, his other hand jumping to hold Eddie’s forearm tightly. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck—“

Eddie watches raptly, wide-eyed and mesmerised as Steve’s eyes squeeze shut and his fingers tighten on Eddie’s throat. Eddie presses down against Steve’s thigh, grunting and biting his lip as he comes.

“Eddie.”

Eddie opens his eyes and leans down, pressing sloppy kisses across Steve’s neck, licking over his skin that’s now salty with sweat, exhaling over his own spit and feeling Steve shiver against him.

“Eddie— Baby, please.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, his stomach fluttering.

“I got you,” he says, and Steve’s eyes open when he feels the words vibrate against his hand. “It’s okay, Stevie, I got you.”

“Jesus, fuck—“

When he comes, the noise he lets out is high-pitched, weak and strained and so vulnerable it makes Eddie ache. His eyes squeeze shut, and his hands tighten on Steve, and he tenses up until he’s frozen, and after a moment passes, he collapses.

He exhales hard, his hands releasing Eddie, and Eddie pulls his hand away, smoothing both of his hands Steve’s sides, over his scars and scattered moles. Steve opens his eyes after a moment, breathing heavily, and his eyes land on Eddie’s throat. He traces a line over it softly.

“Sorry.”

Eddie sighs.

“Don’t you dare apologise,” he says quietly. Steve rests his fingertips lightly over his throat. “That was the hardest I’ve come in ages.”

Steve smiles tiredly.

“Didn’t even touch you,” he mumbles.

“Next time.”

Steve’s smile grows and he nods. He falls forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressing his face into his neck. Eddie takes a deep breath. (Steve smells like his fancy soap and weed and sweat, and Eddie wants to keep the scene for the rest of his life.) He wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, burying his face between his arm and Steve’s neck, and inhaling again.

“I love you,” Steve says softly.

Eddie pushes a hand into his hair, tugging lightly three times, and Steve hums quietly.

He lifts his head after a moment, looking up at Eddie.

“Even though you didn’t realise I’m deaf after, like, a year.”

Eddie laughs lightly, looking away as his cheeks flush. Steve’s eyes are sparkling playfully, shining in the dim lamplight, and he really is the prettiest thing Eddie’s ever seen.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Steve says quietly. His eyes stay on Eddie’s lips, and Eddie watches as Steve’s tongue slips across his lips, as he nibbles his bottom lip nervously. Eddie combs through his hair soothingly, and after a moment, Steve’s mouth falls open, and he’s holding his tongue out, and Eddie leans in after briefly wishing for a camera again.

He licks Steve’s tongue, pulling away to look again before he leans back in and sucks his tongue between his lips, sucking and licking at it until both their chins and lips are slick with spit, listening to the sound of their tongues sliding, of Steve’s heavy breaths. When he finally pulls away, Steve’s eyes remain closed, his whole face relaxed and soft and calm. He almost looks asleep. Eddie pets his hair, brushes his fingers over his cheek.

Steve opens his eyes after a moment, and it takes a second for them to focus on Eddie.

“Bed?” he asks softly, almost just breathing the word, and Eddie nods, pressing a kiss to his mouth one more time before he kisses his forehead.

Steve falls asleep first, heavy against Eddie, his head resting on his chest, just over his heart. Eddie wonders if he can feel his heartbeat.

Eddie thinks for a while, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light of the room. (The leave the bathroom light on and the door open. Neither of them can stand the dark anymore.) There are probably some books on sign language at the library. He can ask Robin to pick them up for him. And maybe she can find some classes in town. She’d be willing to teach him what she learns. Of course Steve would also need to learn it. If he wants to. Eddie will ask tomorrow.

Steve sighs, shifting on Eddie’s chest, and Eddie looks down at the top of his head. He carefully, gently presses a hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp and combing through it.

Steve Harrington.

Squeezed Eddie’s throat until he almost couldn’t breath just so he could feel Eddie’s voice because he can’t hear it. Let Eddie suck on his tongue and lick his face and get off on his thigh. Kissed Eddie like he’d die if he didn’t, touched his scars like he’s fragile, like he deserves to be touched delicately.

Said he loves Eddie.

“Eddie,” Steve grumbles against Eddie’s chest. Eddie blinks, looking down at him and tugging his hair to show him that he’s listening. “Go to sleep, baby.”

Eddie smiles, lifting his head to kiss the top of Steve’s head, and then he closes his eyes, because he would walk straight off a cliff if Steve told him to like that.

#i think the world needs more of deaf steve #so #have this #much spicier than i intended oops #but also im not sorry so #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #deaf steve harrington #1k

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huggingtentacles · 1 year

Text

The lore in From Software games was always meant to be not just discovered, but interpreted.

"When Hidetaka Miyazaki was a child, he was a keen reader, though not a talented one. Often he’d reach passages of text he couldn’t understand, and so would allow his imagination to fill in the blanks, using the accompanying illustrations. In this way, he felt he was co-writing the fiction alongside its original author. The thrill of this process never left him – and it is very much there in his arcane and fascinating video games..."

^ borrowed this paragraph from this article

This post is for everyone who still thinks that the games developed by From Software such as Dark Souls, Bloodborne and Elden Ring have "one correct story" that the players have to "figure out".

Fromsoft lore design has always been fun and unique, because it made players look for clues and ask themselves questions. The story isn't simply told to you, you have to discover it on your own by being curious and attentive.

While plaything through these games you discover more and more puzzle pieces, and it's really rewarding to put them together. It drives a sense of exploration, immersing you deeper into these worlds. Some people dedicate hours of their lives to figuring out these puzzles, and some YouTubers built their entire careers on doing that and sharing it with everyone.

But if you were going into this with the mindset that you'll eventually "figure it out" I have bad news for you... You won't. I'm not saying that to disparage you or anything, I'm stating that it's quite literally, and very intentionally, impossible. The puzzle doesn't have all the pieces in it. There will always be gaps, and depending on how much of the details actually matter to you, most of the puzzle will just be gaps.

Even more so, there are so many ways to arrange the pieces, and they will all fit, and your puzzle won't have the same solution as your friend's.

Hidetaka Miyazaki made these games with the intention for you to be the co-author of the story. You can make it personal, or you can share your interpretation with the world. Miyazaki just gives you the puzzle pieces, and anyone who's trying to push their own solution on you is an idiot.

Hell, there are even very plausible theories that even the item descriptions within the game, the literal written lore, can't be trusted in some cases. It's batshit insane to state that there is one correct vision for the story.

Miyazaki himself stated that he has a perfect vision of the lore in his mind, but he would never ever reveal it or confirm anything, because it would ruin all the fun.

"That being said, he does have an intended ‘perfect’ vision of how the Dark Souls story should play out in his head. However, he has no intention of actually revealing what it actually might be...

...he is perfectly content at any story that players might form in their minds."

^ borrowed this paragraph from this article

Share your interpretation, without forcing it on others. Your interpretation is as good as any. Don't ruin the fun.

#elden ring #dark souls #bloodborne #sekiro shadows die twice

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loveywon · 1 year

Text

♡𓂃 ENHYPEN AND KISSING IN THE RAIN !

pairings: enhypen ot7 x gn!reader (separate)

wc: 1.8k+

synopsis: when you and enhypen kiss in the rain <3

warnings: FLUFF, little angst if u squint in jay’s, (innocent) kisses, jungwon calls reader pretty, you can tell its rushed im sorry :(, not proofread Lolz

LEE HEESEUNG ♡𓂃

as you rush your way to the school’s gymnasium, a million thoughts are going through your head. your brain is still having trouble wrapping around the fact that heeseung likes you. you feel like you’re about to pass out with how dizzy you’re getting from the amount of butterflies that are fluttering in your stomach when jake had accidentally revealed heeseung’s crush on you. you couldn’t wait til the next day of school, no. another ten hours is too long, and you must confess now. it was only drizzling when you had left the house, but now as you’re nearing the school you’re absolutely drenched from head to toe, but you could care less. you know heeseung’s basketball practice is almost over, and you cannot wait any longer to announce that you reciprocate his feelings. finally reaching the two big gymnasium doors, you stop for a moment to catch your breath from running. the door swings open, and there is heeseung with his teammates, chatting, but the chatter stops abruptly upon seeing you drenched in the rain, alone. his eyes widened with concern, thinking the absolute worse like something happened and you had no one else to turn to but him. “y/n! are you okay?” he rushes to you, disregarding his umbrella. he could care less if he gets wet. what matters is you. you stand up straight, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. “i like you too, heeseung!” you say loud and proud, and heeseung’s teammates think that they’ve never seen him so frozen before. “w-what?” he’s still processing, but you’re so caught up on adrenaline, you ask him, “can i kiss you?” in which he replies with a mere nod, eyes still blank but once your lips meet his, he’s back into reality and melts with you.

PARK JONGSEONG ♡𓂃

you storm out of your shared bedroom with jay, your feet stomping as you grab your coat. “where are you going?!” jay asks exasperatedly, and you roll your eyes. “anywhere but here,” you retort. you didn’t mean to start a fight with him, but you suppose bottled up emotions got the best of both of you and it blew up in your face. “it’s raining outside! you can’t go out right now. let’s just talk it out, please?” he proposes, and he’s near getting on his knees for you. you don’t care, and you don’t give him another glance as you open the door despite the pouring downfall. you slam the door behind you, but it’s quickly opened back again with a jay running after you, an umbrella in hand. “y/n, please, you’re going to catch a cold like this,” he pleads, grabbing your hand to stop you from walking away. his strength is enough to turn you around to face him (without hurting you), and his face instantly softens upon seeing your soaked cheeks that’s not from the rain. “i don’t want you getting sick. please, can we go back inside and talk it out again?” he frowns, and you nod slowly. you know jay would never hurt you intentionally, and he’d do anything in his power to prevent anything from happening. you bury your head in his chest, and he rubs your back with his free hand comfortingly. he places a delicate kiss on your forehead, “you mean everything to me, i’m sorry.”

SIM JAKE ♡𓂃

it’s so cheesy, you think. the way you and jake run out in the rain out of pure impulse is just something you would only do with him. you convince yourself it’s because he’s been by your side since elementary, so you really only trust him more than anyone else. he drags you with him, despite your protests and screaming because you just washed your hair, and you didn’t want to wash it again. your “no! jake please, no!” falls on deaf ears and jake only grins from ear to ear with the way your hands are intertwined together and running away from the roof that was keeping you both dry. your head is down, trying to keep your face at least dry but jake won’t have this. he tilts your head up with his hand cupping your chin, “chin up, enjoy the moment!” he says so enthusiastically that you feel like you have no choice but to listen (not like you could say no to jake anyway), embracing the wet droplets that land on your face. he giggles, so entranced with the way you look so at peace underneath the rain. “you’re so unreal,” is all he says before his lips meet yours.

PARK SUNGHOON ♡𓂃

it’s so painfully awkward, the silence between you and him as you both sit at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to come but it’s been fifteen minutes since the bus was scheduled to arrive. you didn’t know each other well, and because both your friends wanted to do a stupid double date forced you to leave with sunghoon. he’s too gentlemanly to leave you to go home alone, but with the way the bus doesn’t seem to be coming at all, you let out an exasperated sigh. “sorry. you can go home if you want,” you say, but he only shrugs his shoulders and doesn’t look up from his hands, playing with the rings that decorate his fingers. “i’m just gonna walk home. it’s only like, twenty minutes. sorry to be a bother,” you apologize again, standing up and bowing down to him slightly. he finally looks up, “oh. i’ll walk with you then.” it simply doesn’t cross his mind that you’re living opposite of where he lives, but you don’t refuse because you know he’d still tag along anyway. the walk is silent, the rain really brings down the mood and amplifies the awkwardness. after a long twenty minutes, you stop at your door. “okay…well…bye,” you bite your bottom lip and sunghoon opens his mouth to say something so you decide to not completely move yet even though you’re absolutely soaked from the rain and he is too. “um, do you want to actually go on a proper date? just us two?” he asks, and it really takes you aback because you thought he had no interest in you at all. you smile, nodding as you hand him your phone to put his number in. “thank you for walking back with me,” you say, quickly pecking his cheek before running to your door.

KIM SUNOO ♡𓂃

one step out of the school doors, you’re met with pouring rain. you frown; maybe you should have listened to your mom when she nagged at you to bring an umbrella. as you’re about to accept your fate and step out from underneath the roof that is keeping you try, you feel a presence next to you. “hi,” sunoo greets with an umbrella in his hand as he takes a step forward so that you’re standing underneath the umbrella. you smile at him, “hello. i don’t need the umbrella, it’s okay. i normally shower after school anyway.” you brush him off, but he’s stubborn and knows more than anything that cold rain is going to cause you to get sick, and he doesn’t think he can get through school without you for a week. “don’t care! let’s go.” he grabs your hand and drags you with him, despite your assurance that you’re fine. as you two walk to your house, side by side since his umbrella is a little small, you sigh, making sunoo look at you with concern. perhaps he was too pushy, he assumes. “you really didn’t have to,” you say, but you really want to just ask him why, and he seems to understand. “i just want to spend more time with you. i like you, y/n,” he states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and you can only gape at him. “oh.” you two are already close to each other, so all you have to do is turn your head to peck him on the lips. “i like you too.”

YANG JUNGWON ♡𓂃

late night studying in the library happens almost every time you’re with jungwon, so you’re not surprised when the librarian walks over to kick the two of you out. with continuous apologies to the librarian as you and jungwon walk out, jungwon hears pitter patter from outside the window. “umm…y/n, i think it’s raining outside,” he says and you run to the nearest window to look outside, only to see that he is right. you don’t recall seeing the weather app saying it was going to be raining today. you frown, “oh, i don’t have an umbrella,” to which jungwon replies with “me neither.” the two of you stare at each other awkwardly until jungwon decides to take the first step outside the door, to which you follow. he purses his lips together into a thin line, the heavy rain bringing you two to a dilemma. “well!” you shrug, grabbing his hand and dragging him out from the safe and dry roof, the two of you instantly becoming drenched. with a lighthearted laugh, you start to run towards the direction of your neighborhoods, and jungwon joins in with fits of giggles. “oh god, my grandma’s gonna be so mad at me when i come home soaked!” jungwon yells to you because the rain is just so loud, it’s difficult to hear each other. you laugh, finally coming to a stop to catch your breath, “not our fault the weather app lied to us,” you grin, and his own lips curve up into a smile as well. “you’re really so pretty,” he says breathlessly, his chest still heaving up and down from the run. “you too,” you reply, placing a kiss on his cheek and he mimics you, kissing your cheek as well.

NISHIMURA RIKI ♡𓂃

it’s one thing to be stupid and reckless, and it’s another thing to be nishimura riki. this realization only occurs to you now, as the two of you stand idly, drenched and cold. you sigh, “this is exactly why i hesitated to say yes.” you grumble underneath your breath, arms hugging yourself to try and adapt some warmth. he feels so bad upon seeing your shivering state, and he knows the thin jacket you’re wearing does absolutely nothing to shield you from the cold. so instead, he wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a hug and successfully warming you up (but you don’t let him know because you’re trying your hardest to be mad). “sorry, y/n,” he apologizes sheepily with a boyish grin, and it's so hard to stay irritated with him. you lean into his hug, “it’s fine. next time try thinking before you decide to get yourself into even more trouble.” you mumble and he nods enthusiastically. he brushes your wet hair out of your face, pecking soft and apologetic kisses all over your face. its silent for a moment as the two of you are in each other’s embrace, despite the constant droplets of rain. “i can call us an uber and i’ll make hot chocolate when we get back!” he proposes and you smile and nod as he pulls out his phone.

taglist!: @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @hyunes4ngel

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unformula1 · 2 months

Text

everything that’s left (AL12 x reader)

series masterlist | next part

not everything is gone

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pairing: arthur leclerc x reader | (ex) charles leclerc x reader

w/c: 1587

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a/n: have fun!! i really do enjoy this series, hope you love it too :)))

taglist: @ggaslyp1 @janeholt3 @boherahpsody @kryingkat22 @iamkaku @vizzzashley @mycenterfold

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started with meeting him two weeks into you and Charles’ relationship, all he did was smile at you and wave when you greeted him.

“Meet Arthur. He’s my brother.” Charles says, placing his arm around your shoulder.

Arthur looks up from his phone and flashes a warm smile at you, giving you a slight royal-looking wave. You smile awkwardly and wave back.

He immediately turns back to his phone and Charles pulls you away, bringing you around to see other people.

Then it became ‘hi’s and ‘bye’s, waving when you two saw each other, giving each other smiles and acknowledgement.

“Hi.” You say as you walk past Arthur in the paddock.

“Hello.” Arthur replies, looking up from his phone and smiling slightly.

Slowly but surely you two started chatting, be it across text or in person; these chats were pretty shallow and superficial, talking about the weather and all.

“I saw your instagram post.” You comment.

“You did?” Arthur asks, chuckling slightly.

“Yea. Seems like you had fun.” You say, feeling slightly more comfortable.

“I did.” Arthur replies, smiling.

After that, it slowly evolved into deeper chats, about how having an older brother in the sport gave unreal expectations of him, less about the weather and more about feelings.

“It gets hard sometimes, yea, you get me?” He says, leaning back onto the seat.

“Mhm. Definitely. Must be hard.” You say, still rather uptight when talking to him.

“People expect me to be a carbon copy of him, and when I’m not, I’m just bad.” Arthur continues ranting.

You’re not sure if he’s intentionally ranting or not but you don’t mind. You enjoy listening to him talk about something deep rather than what the sky was looking like.

Then, the chats became more casual, happening anywhere and everywhere. The uptight and tense feeling in your body disappeared slowly and the knot in your stomach slowly faded off.

“And eventually, it all just piles up and it feels like no one is there for me and I feel like killing myself.” Arthur deadpans.

“Okay- first off, NO. You are not doing that. Second off, what do you mean ‘no one is there for you’? What am I? A roach?” You respond, scoffing.

“Listen, I did not mean it like that, sometimes you are too far away.” Arthur says.

“Literally text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Well what the hell.”

You gave him your number, he gave you his: The start of many random calls and facetimes for whatever reason.

When Charles wasn’t there, the next best option was him. Arthur never hesitated to talk to you or sit with you while you stared into the blank space.

“Do you ever think about how we might not ever meet our soulmate.” You say, staring into the ceiling.

Arthur put down his phone, “I think we all will meet someone we love truly.”

“Mmkay…” You continued staring.

The silence in the room was not tense or awkward, it was more like a calm white noise that gave you a weird sense of clarity.

Finally, when you started losing Charles, Arthur became the first choice. If Charles was being a dick, it was going straight to Arthur. If Charles left you alone, Arthur was there.

You descend into a mess of tears and rambling. Across the phone, you hear shuffling of feet and footsteps.

“Please stay on the phone. I’m coming over.”

You manage out a ‘mhm’ for him.

There’s a short silence.

“Charles would never.” Arthur reassures you, “He’s faithful.”

You hope so too. You desperately hope so.

And now, you laid on Arthur’s couch, curled up in a cradle position, making some very unearthly noises as you cried your lungs out. You think back on everything leading up to this point.

What did you do wrong? Did you mess up?

Arthur walks back into the living room, holding a warm cup of water.

“I… uhm… you want water?” Arthur says, giving you the cup of water.

You nod weakly, your entire face red from crying and the dried up tears still on your cheeks. You take the cup of water from him and take a sip of it.

It’s warm, leaning to the hot side but still warm.

He takes a seat next to you and you shuffle to the side to give him space to sit down. He places his hands on his lap, like the gentleman he is.

“Sorry for…” You sniff, “Barging in randomly when I said I wanted to be alone.”

“It’s okay, really, no problem.” He assures, his hand flying to your shoulder and giving it a slight pat.

“It’s just been really hard and I don’t know why and it’s confusing me so much.” You sigh, sniffing more and holding back some tears.

“I get it. It’s hard… I’m always here for you.”

I’m always here for you.

I’m always here for you…

It sends some sort of chill down your spine, making you shiver slightly. The words repeat in your head as you try to construct a sentence to respond to him. Charles never really meant it when he said that, now Arthur’s the one saying it. You don’t really know what to say back.

“I hope so.” You say. It comes out a lot more obnoxious than you expected

It clearly takes Arthur aback too, as he hesitates to reply to you, clearly trying to find the right words.

“I will. You can trust me.” He says.

Again, Charles would say that often. You think about all the times he’s said it and all the times he went back on his word.

“Charles said that too.”

You can feel your emotions taking over, you’re not processing the words you’re saying, every word that spills out doesn’t go through a filter.

Arthur is clearly stumped on what to say next.

Shit.

You apologise, “I’m sorry, I’m tired, the words aren’t… processing or anything.” Your nose is still blocked.

“It’s alright. I understand.” He says again, still speaking as if you two were having some friendly chat.

You know Arthur’s the kind to speak rationally and methodically approach something but right now all you needed was the Arthur which hugged you when Charles couldn’t.

“Could you… not speak like that.” You blurt out. The words, once again, sounding rather rude.

Arthur raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t want any solutions right now.” You say, slightly frustrated.

Arthur nods, “Sorry. Just… natural instinct.”

“I just need you to…I don’t even know.” You take a deep sigh again.

Before you can string together another sentence, Arthur slowly shifts closer to you and pulls you in for a slow hug. You don’t fight back.

He pulls you in and pats you on the back, your head lays on his shoulder. It’s warm, very warm. His touch makes you tear up again.

His hug feels genuine, it feels as if he never wants you to leave him. You can’t remember the last time you were hugged like this.

The tears start flowing out again and you let out soft sobs, your head still laying on Arthur’s shoulder. As you sob and eventually start crying again, Arthur doesn’t let go, he doesn’t flinch when you abruptly start crying. He just keeps you within his embrace.

You missed this. You missed everything about this.

“I don’t wanna leave.” You say while crying. You’re not sure how much Arthur heard of that sentence but you couldn’t care less.

Arthur subtly nods and pats you on the back.

“You don’t have to.” He whispers gently.

Arthur’s gentle whisper makes you feel like crying even more and letting it all out, for real, for once. Everything about the way Arthur dealt with you made you feel safe.

You take a deep breath before releasing all your emotions at once. You don’t even know which emotions are coming out anymore, you just cry, scream and wail.

Arthur barely moves, once again not flinching at your sudden outburst. He releases you from the hug but keeps holding your hand. You eventually lay down next to Arthur, letting everything that’s bottled up out.

His grip on your hand is firm, and it’s assuring.

“You could stay… for a while.” He whispers again, but loud enough for you to hear.

You nod in response as you gather your emotions. It’s almost impossible to string together a coherent sentence at this point, your entire head is just a messy jumble of memories and everything that’s happening right now but blurred into one.

You really want to stay.

So you do.

About an hour passes before you stop crying and you sit up, taking multiple deep breaths, calming yourself.

Arthur’s still sat next to you, his hand still holding yours.

The sky outside is practically dark at this point, most of the city lights have gone off, except the clubs and some houses. Arthur’s been sitting silently next to you.

He’s been for the past hour, letting you have a safe space to pour your feelings out. He turns to you and smiles warmly, like the smile he flashed at you when you first met him, and like the one you so distinctly remember no matter what.

Like the smile you fell in love with when Charles couldn’t afford to give you a glance.

Charles walked out on you, and that took everything left out of you, he left a gaping hole in your heart. Everything disappeared when Charles walked out… everything but Arthur.

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freckles-things · 1 year

Text

Stolen Love // BBC Sherlock

Summary: Not having seen your boyfriend for some days, you head over to his flat with Chinese take away and left with a broken heart. [Happy ending]

Requested by: @talialea05 (I hope it is what you had in mind)

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x fem!reader

Warnings: broken heart, complicated relationships, subject of cheating, swearing

---

Sherlock and Y/N had been dating for a few months now. Both of you hadn’t really been looking for a relationship, especially Sherlock, but here you were. Sherlock had struggled with his feelings at first, not being used to being ruled by emotions. He too had accepted it in the end, and he had to admit that he enjoyed being with you quite a lot. John also repeatedly told him, both of you really, that the relationship had changed Sherlock for the better. Not that he needed changing, in your opinion. Yes, he was direct and brash and downright rude sometimes, but never intentionally cruel. He cared about people and justice and could be gentle and soft if he wanted to be.

Your relationship so far had consisted of ups and downs, just like any other one. At the moment you definitely were in a down-phase. You hadn’t seen Sherlock in days, and he had neither answered your calls nor your texts. You had texted John, who told you that they currently were working on a demanding and top-secret case brought to them by Mycroft. There had been a few times when Sherlock had been so focused on a case that he had forgotten you during the day. Back then, he had at least texted you a few times a day, whenever there was a short lull in his work, letting you know that he was still busy, and he had paid attention to make sure that you would see each other every other day. Yes, those dates had often consisted of you helping with the case or relaxing at Baker Street while Sherlock was sifting through evidence trying to connect clues, but that had been more than alright with you. You had often spent the evenings on the couch reading or telling Sherlock about the newest things happening in your life, him listening and commenting while he was jotting things down or looking things up. You had been content, you knew what kind of man he was before you had entered a relationship with him. You didn’t expect him to change. And you didn’t want him to. You enjoyed watching him work far too much for that.

Now, after nearly a week, you yearned to see him, even if it was just for a few minutes. You had texted John, asking if there were at the flat, which he confirmed. Buying some dinner at the Chinese restaurant you three preferred, you were looking forward to having dinner with both of them. Even if Sherlock would be preoccupied, John never failed to entertain you with his sarcastic comments.

Finally reaching 221 Baker Street, you knocked on the door waiting for Mrs. Hudson to answer you, which she did promptly. She hugged you, as always, and commented on how good it was to see you again. After a quick chat you made your way upstairs to Sherlock’s flat. You opened the door not bothering to knock, taking a few steps into the flat before freezing.

Sherlock and John weren’t alone. A woman was sitting in Sherlock’s armchair. She was gorgeous, almost flawless and seemed to be quite content in the situation. What caught your attention though, was the fact that she was wearing Sherlock’s robe. And if anything, Sherlock was quite peculiar over his robe. Even you weren’t allowed to wear it. That woman was currently wrapped up in it. Your mind drew a blank trying to explain the situation. Maybe she’d been drenched in something? But even then, they had towels and could have lent her a shirt and a pair of pants.

You put down the takeaway and took a few more steps towards the living room, listening to the conversation they were currently having.

“Well handsome, I’m not sure that plan will work. They might be too dazzled by those cheekbones”, the woman said lowly, leaning forward so her cleavage was on full display. You noticed Sherlock shifting slightly, crossing his legs.

“The likelihood of that happening is ridiculously low. We might as well go on with the current plan, as you well know.” His voice was the same as always, not betraying a single emotion. The woman hummed in agreement.

“You know, Mr. Holmes. I always liked detective stories. And detectives.” By now she was leaning even farther towards Sherlock, her hand wandering over the ankle of the crossed over leg, caressing further up his leg. You really didn’t want to see this and most of all you didn’t want to see how your boyfriend didn’t interfere with another woman touching him.

“Consulting Detective. The only one in the world.” You could clearly hear the pride in his voice. Was he trying to impress her?

“Let’s have dinner”, she stated. Even John had noticed that she was flirting and seemingly didn’t seem to care either since he didn’t interject and only made an amused comment over Sherlock’s eating habits.

You felt your stomach drop, taking a few clumsy steps back from the scene in front of you. How neither of them noticed you presence eluded you, but drove home the point of how enraptured your usual very attentive boyfriend was by the woman sitting opposite him. If the woman was part of the important case, it was no wonder that Sherlock hadn’t answered you. She was beautiful, direct, and intelligent and Sherlock was clearly taken by her.

Well then, the relationship wasn’t in a down-phase anymore. It was over. You turned around without announcing your presence, making your way out of the flat and back onto the street, stomping to the next tube station to get home. You felt numb and tried to concentrate on anything but the recent events. If there was one thing that you really didn’t need, it was a breakdown on the tube. Only once the door to your flat closed behind you, did you feel the tears gathering in your eyes and streaming down your face. You had known that Sherlock would sooner or later grow bored of you. He was brilliant, a force to be reckoned with and you were, well, ordinary. You couldn’t always keep up with his thoughts or his logic and preferred a quieter style of life. Of course you would grow to be a bother to him at some point. You just had hoped that this would happen later rather than sooner. And you had hoped that he would have had the decency to end your relationship properly instead of just ignoring you until you got the point.

Growing angry, you fished your phone out of your pocket and sending exactly one text before blocking Sherlock’s number: We’re done. Enjoy dinner.

---

It had taken Sherlock three days to realize that he wasn’t as unaffected by your massage as he had thought.

At first, he hadn’t understood what you meant and ignored the message. That was until both he and John accompanied The Woman to the door, and he spotted the bag of takeaway standing by the door to the living room. You must have been here. How had he not noticed you coming in? Now that he knew, he could smell the heady scent of your perfume lingering in the air. John looked equally surprised when he noticed the food. After The Woman had disappeared, he tried to contact you, but immediately got the message that your number wasn’t available.

“She must have seen Irene flirt with you, Sherlock. And you didn’t quite gave off the impression of being averse to it”, John commented once he understood the situation.

“Flirting?”, Sherlock questioned confusedly. John shook his head and smiled at his cluelessness.

“Quite obviously, Sherlock. I’ve never seen anyone flirt so openly. So, what are you going to do about Y/N?”

“Nothing”, he shrugged. It must have been obvious to you that he hadn’t reciprocated her flirting – at least that was what Sherlock though. And if you couldn’t trust him, then so be it. He had better things to do than to chase after a jealous woman.

“Nothing? Sherlock, you can’t let that poor girl wander around, thinking that you were flirting with other women behind her back.”

“Well, she should know better and trust me.”

“You can be an utter bastard sometimes; do you know that? That girl hasn’t heard from you in a week and comes here with dinner just to see another woman flirting with you. Of course she comes to the wrong conclusion. Look, Sherlock, both of you have bloomed in your relationship. You can’t just let that slip away.” John had grown frustrated by his friend’s blasé attitude. He knew that the two of you hadn’t said it yet, but it had been clear for anybody that the two of you were head over heels in love with each other. He didn’t understand how Sherlock could just let this slip past his grasp.

“I don’t have the time to chase after jealous women, John”, was Sherlock’s clipped response before he disappeared into his bedroom. He didn’t need you after all. He had survived years without a single relationship, so why should he bother. It didn’t make a difference, right?

Well, it did. He had caught himself talking to you on a few different occasions, without you being there. Thankfully, John had been away in those instances, otherwise he wouldn’t have heard the end of it. The one time he had wanted to make tea on his own, and yes, he was perfectly capable of that, the only tea he could find was your favourite. He hadn’t even known that they had it at the flat. Walking the streets of London, every flower shop suddenly seemed to display your favourites and the cake you loved, and would always buy a slice of if you ever saw it, was advertised everywhere. His thoughts were more and more occupied with you, to the point where he couldn’t properly focus on his cases. It was ridiculous, really. He didn’t understand why he was this affected by the situation. Even Gavin had noticed that something was off and had ordered him to rest for a few days before coming back for new cases.

It took him another two days until he decided to try and text you, asking you to talk. The message didn’t go through. So, you had still blocked him. He wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that. Did you want him to reach out so he could try to explain, or did you want to be left alone? He could admit that he wanted to try and tell you what had really happened. A chance to explain the situation you had observed. He had never been good with his feelings, he didn’t always understand them, but after a week and a few not-so-subtle hints from John, he could admit that he missed you. That it hurt that you weren’t there with him. He needed to talk with you. And if he couldn’t reach out like this, then he would have to go and find you.

---

You had spent the last week crying and feeling sorry for yourself. You had predictably heard nothing from Sherlock. Ignoring the voice in your head that reminded you that you had blocked him, you went in search of some chocolate. You were sure that he could reach you if he really wanted to. Wallowing in self pity wasn’t a solution though. You had given yourself the week to cry and be sad about it, all with the clear intention that this would be it and that you would be over him afterwards. Too bad that your heart didn’t quite agree with the plan. No matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t. You loved Sherlock and your broken heart wouldn’t just go away because you wanted it to. You wanted Sherlock too, but you simply weren’t going to get what you wanted to have.

Grabbing your chocolate and your freshly brewed coffee, you made your way to the living room. Once you had stepped over the threshold, you froze. There was a very familiar figure sitting on your sofa.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you asked in absolute surprise before you remembered the current situation between you.

“Get out, Sherlock. I don’t want to see you.” You set your things down on the table and waited expectantly for him to move without looking at him. He didn’t though.

“You should change your locks. They were way too easy to pick, didn’t even take me 30 seconds”, his voice sounded the same as always. The deep baritone not giving anything away.

“Get out.” You repeated yourself. How could he even sit there calmly, as if nothing had happened?

“I thought we could talk, Y/N”

“Well, you thought wrong. And now get the hell out of my flat, Sherlock.” He still didn’t budge. How dare he break into your home and then refuse to leave. The audacity made you fume, and you took a deep breath. Exploding at him wouldn’t solve anything.

“Y/N, don’t be unreasonable”, ha admonished. Well, that did it.

“Unreasonable? Who the bloody hell do you think you are to invade my home like this and then disregard my wishes? You’re an arrogant bastard, Sherlock. Leave me alone!” He still didn’t react, which made your anger grow. He was just sitting there and blinking at you. Well, only one solution left then. Without saying anything else you turned around and slipped into your shoes which were standing in the hallway, moving to grab your jacket. You felt absolutely foolish leaving your own flat, but if he wouldn’t leave then you had to. You were just about to grab your keys when a large hand grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t leave, Y/N. Please, let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Sherlock”, your voice sounded utterly defeated, and you felt Sherlock shift behind you at the sound of it.

“Please, Y/N. Just give me five minutes.” Maybe it was the fact that he had said please two times in a row, a word which he usually never used, or maybe your exhaustion won, but you agreed. Winding your wrist out of his grasp, you moved back to the living room, taking a seat in the armchair and waited until Sherlock had followed.

“Five minutes”, you agreed, waiting for him to begin his explanation while studiously avoiding to look at him or his general direction.

“I didn’t realise she was flirting with me, Y/N.” You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips. That was an utterly ridiculous excuse. Did he honestly expect you to believe that?

“I realise that it sounds like a lame excuse. But I really didn’t notice until John explained it to me. I… I have no experience with relationships. No one ever stuck around long enough for that, none ever has accepted me enough to want to be in a relationship with me. John explained how it must have looked. Me not answering your texts and then the situation with Irene. I swear that there is nothing between us. I didn’t accept her dinner invitation. I never do.” So, obviously there had been more than one invitation. You didn’t know how to feel about this revelation. How long had he worked on the case for that to be possible?

You didn’t quite look at him while saying your piece. There was no response from Sherlock, which made you swallow hard. Taking a deep breath, you prepared to lay your feelings bare in the hopes to get your closure.

“She was flirting with you, Sherlock. She had her hands all over you, touching you and inviting you for dinner. You didn’t say anything, even John didn’t say anything about it. You didn’t even tell me that you were working a case. I got to know that from John. And when I come over with the intention of making your evening a little easier by bringing food, you’re not only sitting across a woman that shamelessly flirts with you, but she was also wearing your bathrobe. The one even I am not allowed to touch because you’ve got some weird attachment to it. What was I supposed to think, Sherlock? You don’t just let other people touch you like that if you’re not interested. And I’ve never seen you letting anyone touch you voluntarily except for John and Mrs. H.“

“I’m not stupid, Sherlock. I knew that one day, sooner or later, you would lose interest in me. You’re brilliant and extraordinary and no one really can keep up with you, least of all I. Why would you be interested in some ordinary person? And that’s alright. I was prepared for that. But I expected you to be honest and to not just string me along for entertainment or some sick form of amusement”, your voice was quiet and wobbled precariously as you tried to hold back your tears.

This however got a response out of the consulting detective. He closed the distance between you with two large steps, kneeling on the floor in front of you and gently grasping your hands before you could even blink. His large hands encased yours and kept on holding them when you tried to wiggle them free.

“Are you sure? I would understand if you’d prefer her over me. She’s beautiful and intelligent.” His well-protected heart broke at your words. How could you think that he would ever want anyone else if he could have you. You were perfect to him. Exactly what he needed and wanted, and he would never give you up.

“Love, I would never do that. If anything, the last week has shown me how much I need you in my life. I missed you, Y/N. I couldn’t think and everything reminded me of you. I don’t want to lose you. I realize that my reaction to Irene Adler wasn’t the best and that I hurt your feelings with the way I behaved. I promise that I will try to do better. My understanding of emotions is minuscule at best, and I cannot promise that I’ll never make a mistake again. But I don’t want Irene Adler. How could I, when I have you in my life?”, he said in the softest voice you’d ever heard from him. He searched for your eyes, and you met them for a split second. It was enough to see the regret on his face and the earnestness with which he promised to do better. It wasn’t quite enough yet.

“I don’t want anyone but you, Y/N. I didn’t answer your texts because I didn’t realise you weren’t there. I talked to you every evening, running through the case. And I didn't give my bathrobe to her, John did. I asked her to put on something else, but John warned me that she would just not wear anything at all. And I didn't want that. And the last week I caught myself talking to you as well, but there was no answer because you weren’t there. I missed the chatter while I was going through the evidence. Graham even sent me home because I couldn’t focus on the case. You make me a better person, Y/N. And I realised that I can’t live without you anymore. You're kind and always see the good in people. Wherever you are, you bring sunshine. And you are more intelligent than you realize, love. Your input on my cases has helped me a great deal and I can’t imagine anyone else I would rather discuss a case with.”

His warm hands framed your face, gently tilting it up a little. Your eyes met and you were mesmerized by the emotions swimming in his usually cold gaze. There were dark shadows under his eyes that proved that he hadn’t slept well in the past few days, despite not having any cases.

“You are beautiful, love. Inside and out. And it pains me that you don’t see it yourself. I will spend the rest of my life proving it if you will have me.” You slowly leaned your forehead against his broad chest, your shoulders drooping in defeat. How on earth were you supposed to resist that man? Maybe your reaction had been a little harsh and you should have waited for an explanation. It might have saved you both from a week full of heartache.

“I’m sorry, too. I might have overreacted when I saw you together and should have given you a chance to explain. I should have trusted you. Maybe we could talk about boundaries and what we expect of each other some time, so we can be on the same page? Will you forgive me?” You practically whispered your words, but you were sure Sherlock picked them up with no effort.

His strong arms wrapped themselves around your back, pulling you even closer to him. His face buried itself against your neck, and soft lips pressed a slow kiss against your jaw.

“Only if you’ll forgive one stupid, self-absorbed detective as well.” His words forced a wet laugh out off you, your hands grabbing onto the front of his coat and taking a deep breath of his well-known scent.

“I don’t think I could stay mad at you, even if I wanted to. I do love you far too much for that.” Once the words had left your mouth, you froze. Neither of you had said the words until now and you hadn’t intended to let them slip out.

Sherlock’s hand moved up to the back of your head, gently moving it so he could see your face again.

“I’m glad to know we’re of one mind then, love”, he whispered against your lips, before closing the small distance between you. You closed your eyes, the stress of the last week lifting off your shoulders as Sherlock kissed you gently.

You stayed in his arms for hours, not wanting to let go. Sherlock didn’t fare any better, pressing your body against his, his mind finally at ease when he felt your weight settle against him. Both of you would undoubtedly make mistakes again, just like everyone else did. But with a relationship built on trust and communication, you would overcome those as well.

-----------

If you spot any mistakes please let me know!

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